/ .  //, .'/ 


PRINCETON,  N.  J.  <r 


Divisioti. 
Section... 


^^^^^  ^y^^^ 


THE    DIGNITY   OF   MAN 


Select  ^crmonss 


By  SAMUEL   SMITH   HARRIS,  D.D.,LL.D. 


C^^U^t 


Cl^e  J^tgntt?  of  fl©an 


Select   Sermons 


*     JAN  Zl  1911 


BY 


SAMUEL   SMITH   HARRIS,  D.D.,  LL.D. 


LATE    BISHOP    OF   MICHIGAN 


raftfj  a  iHemorial  ^titjrcss 

IJY 

RT.  REV.  HENRY   C.  POTTER,  D.D.,  LL.D. 

BISHOP    OF    NEW   YORK 


CHICAGO 
A.  C.   McCLURG  AND   COMPANY 
1889 


Copyright 

By  Sallie  p.  Harris 

A.D.  1889 


TO    THE    READER. 


At  the  request  of  many  friends  I  have  prepared 
for  publication  this  volume  of  my  father's  sermons. 
As  its  preparation  has  been  a  solace  to  me,  I  hope 
it  may  prove  a  consolation  to  those  who  have  so 
sincerely  mourned  for  him.  To  my  father's  friends, 
Bishop  Henry  C.  Potter  and  Rev.  Dr.  Fulton, 
of  New  York,  Gen.  A.  C.  McClurg,  of  Chicago, 
Hon.  James  V.  Campbell,  Rev.  Dr.  McCarroll, 
Mr.  Sidney  D.  Miller,  and  Mr.  John  H.  Bis- 
SELL,  of  Detroit,  I  am  deeply  indebted  for  their 
untiring  interest  and  assistance. 

SALLIE    P.   HARRIS. 

Detroit,  February,  18S9. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

INTRODUCTION.      By    the    Honorable     James    V. 

Campbell,  LL.D .13 


MEMORIAL    ADDRESS.      Sermon     by    the    Right 

Reverend  Henry  C.  Potter,  D.D.,  LL.D 47 

Sermon  I. 

Shepherdhoou 79 

He  that   entereth   in   by  the  door  is   the  shepherd  of  the 
sheep.  —  St.  John  x.  2. 

Sermon  II. 

The  Dignity  of  Man 93 

And  God  said,  Let  us  make  man  in  our  image,  after  our  likeness  : 
and  let  them  have  dominion  over  the  fish  of  the  sea,  and  over 
the  fowl  of  the  air,  and  over  the  cattle,  and  over  all  the  earth, 
and  over  every  creeping  thing  that  creepeth  upon  the  earth. 
So  God  created  man  in  his  own  image,  in  the  image  of  God 
created  he  him.  —  Gen.  i.  26,  27. 

Sermon  III. 

The  Indignity  of  Sin 108 

But  he  that  sinneth  against  me  wrongeth  his  own  soul :  all 
they  that  hate  me  love  death.  —  Prov.  viii.  36. 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

Sermon  IV.  page 

Redemption 122 

And  thou  shalt  call  his  name  Jesus  :  for  he  shall  save  his  people 
from  their  sins.  — St.  Matt.  i.  21. 

Sermon  V. 
Eternal  Life 137 

Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  He  that  heareth  my  word,  and 
believeth  on  him  that  sent  me,  hath  everlasting  life,  and  shall 
not  come  into  condemnation ;  but  is  passed  from  death  into 
life  — St.  John  v.  24. 

Sermon  VI. 

The  Signs  of  the  Times 151 

The  Pharisees  also  with  the  Sadducees  came,  and  tempting 
desired  him  that  he  would  show  them  a  sign  from  heaven.  He 
answered  and  said  unto  them,  When  it  is  evening,  ye  say.  It 
will  be  fair  weather  :  for  the  sky  is  red.  And  in  the  morning, 
It  will  be  foul  weather  to-day :  for  the  sky  is  red  and  lowering. 
O  ye  hypocrites,  ye  can  discern  the  face  of  the  sky ;  but  can 
ye  not  discern  the  signs  of  the  times  ?  —  St.  Matt.  xvi.  1-3. 

Sermon  VII. 
Home 163 

God  setteth  the  solitary  in  families.  —  Ps.  Ixviii.  6. 

Sermon  VIII. 
My  Neighbor 175 

If  ye  fulfil  the  royal  law  according  to  the  scripture.  Thou  shalt 
love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself,  ye  do  well :  but  if  ye  have 
respect  to  persons,  ye  commit  sin,  and  are  convinced  of  the 
law  as  transgressors.  —  St.  James  ii.  8,  9. 

Sermon  IX. 
Business 189 

And  that  ye  study  to  be  quiet,  and  to  do  your  own  business, 
and  to  work  with  your  own  hands,  as  we  commanded  you ; 
that  ye  may  walk  honestly  toward  them  that  are  without,  and 
that  ye  may  have  lack  of  nothing.  —  i  Thess.  iv.  11,  12. 


CONTENTS.  IX 

Sermon  X.  page 

Repentance 201 

From  that  time  Jesus  began  to  preach,  and  to  say,  Repent :  for 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand.  —  St.  Matt,  iv,  17. 

Sermon  XI. 
Sons  of  God 212 

But  as  many  as  received  him,  to  them  gave  he  power  to  become  the 
Sons  of  God,  even  to  them  that  behave  on  his  name :  which 
were  born,  not  of  blood,  nor  of  the  will  of  the  flesh,  nor  of  the 
will  of  man,  but  of  God.  — St.  John  i.  12,  13. 

Sermon  XII. 
Hope 222 

Beloved,  now  are  ye  the  sons  of  God,  and  it  doth  not  yet  appear 
what  we  shall  be :  but  we  know  that,  when  he  shall  appear, 
we  shall  be  like  him ;  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is.  And 
every  man  that  hath  this  hope  in  him  purifieth  himself,  even 
as  he  is  pure.  —  i  John  iii.  2,  3. 

Sermon  XIII. 

Self-Sacrifice    ....         231 

Hereby  perceive  we  the  love  of  God,  because  he  laid  down  his 
life  for  us  :  and  we  ought  to  lay  down  our  lives  for  the  breth- 
ren.—  I  John  iii.  16. 

Sermon  XIV. 

The  Only  Gospel  for  the  Poor 243 

Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  them.  Go  and  show  John  again 
those  things  which  ye  do  hear  and  see  :  the  blind  receive  their 
sight,  and  the  lame  walk,  the  lepers  are  cleansed,  and  the  deaf 
hear,  the  dead  are  raised  up,  and  the  poor  have  the  gospel 
preached  to  them.  —St.  Matt.  xi.  4,  5. 

Sermon  XV. 
A  Christmas  Message 256 

In  him  was  life;  and  the  life  was  the  light  of  men.  —  St. 
John  i.  4. 


Introliurtton^ 

BY   THE   HON.  JAMES   V.  CAMPBELL,   LL.D. 


THE    DIGNITY    OF    MAN. 


Introtiurtion/ 

TT  would  be  impossible,  in  the  space  allowed  by 
^  an  introduction,  to  prepare  anything  which 
could  be  properly  called  a  biographical  notice; 
but  most  readers  like  to  know  something  about 
an  author  whose  writings  they  are  to  read,  and 
especially  where  he  is  a  great  teacher,  to  whose 

^  The  appearance  of  this  Introduction  with  Bishop  Potter's 
Memorial  Address  may  call  for  explanation.  It  was  prepared 
by  request,  just  after  the  funeral  of  Bishop  Harris,  in  view  of  a 
possible  immediate  publication  of  the  volume  of  sermons  ;  but 
it  seemed  to  the  writer,  as  to  others,  that  no  one  could  intro- 
duce these  sermons  to  the  public  so  gracefully  as  an  associate  in 
the  House  of  Bishops,  whose  relations  with  Bishop  Harris  were 
not  only  affectionate  and  intimate,  but  confidential.  Bishop  Pot- 
ter, at  once,  on  being  asked,  agreed  to  perform  this  friendly  ser- 
vice, suggesting,  nevertheless,  that  there  would  be  an  advantage 
in  presenting  clerical  and  lay  views  together.  Soon  afterward 
the  Standing  Committee  of  the  Diocese  of  Michigan  invited  him 
to  deliver  the  address  at  the  proposed  memorial  service,  which 
was  held  on  the  twenty-second  day  of  November,  1888.  The  re- 
sult was  the  Memorial  Address  published  in  this  volume,  which 
presents  the  character  of  Bishop  Harris  so  truly  and  so  tenderly 
that  nothing  more  could  be  desired  ;  but  at  the  courteous  pro- 
posal of  Bishop  Potter,  who  said  he  had  purposely  avoided  cover- 
ing the  same  ground,  this  Introduction  is  retained.  —  J.  V.  C 


14  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

teachings   they   are   invited   to  listen.     To  furnish 
some  such  information,  it  is  not  necessary  at  this 
time   to  trace   the   hfe   of  Bishop  Harris   back  to 
childhood    or    even  to    early  manhood.     His    life 
was  eventful ;    but  rather  for   its  varying   phases 
than  for  any  personal  adventures  or  strange  inci- 
dents.    He  was  a  soldier,  a  lawyer,  and  a  clergy- 
man, before  he  ceased  to  be  a  young    man,  and 
he  was  but  in  middle  age  when  his  career  ended. 
In  each  of  his  life  periods  he  was  a  man  of  note, 
and  his  earlier  experiences  made  their  mark  upon 
his  character,  while  they  broadened  and  strength- 
ened his  mental  faculties.     His  work  as  a  bishop 
was  made  easier,  as  well  as  more  effective,  by  his 
training   in  different   methods  and   his  experience 
in  varied  affairs;    but  his  new  life  had  so  far  as- 
similated  the  elements  of  what  preceded  it,   that 
it  became  a  complete  and  harmonious  whole,  —  a 
ripened  product,  and  not  a  compound  of  various 
ingredients.     It   is  therefore  safe,  and   more  con- 
venient for  the  purposes  of  this  volume,  to  begin 
any  sketch  of  his  career  with  his  latest  develop- 
ment, which  is  the  one  that  produced  all  the  work 
that  will  remain  as  his  monument,  and — what  is 
much  more  important  —  shaped  that  strong  and 
symmetrical    personality   which    made    the   truest 
greatness    of  the    noble    man   who    so    impressed 
himself  on  all  who  knew  him. 


INTRO  D  UCTION.  \  5 

After  an  early  and  somewhat  precocious  liter- 
ary graduation,  and  an  admission  to  the  bar  by 
special  legislation  because  of  his  legal  minority, 
Bishop  Harris  followed  what  to  a  young  man  of 
spirit,  surrounded  as  he  was,  became  inevitable, 
and  was  a  soldier  in  the  Southern  Army.  He 
served  through  the  war  honorably,  and  gained  a 
reputation  for  humanity  and  magnanimity  as  well 
as  bravery.  His  subsequent  career  at  the  bar  was 
almost  phenomenal  in  Its  rapid  success.  He  was 
eloquent,  laborious,  and  mature  and  wise  beyond  his 
years,  and  had  already  reached  a  large  practice 
and  a  large  income  when  he  gave  up  the  certainty 
of  professional  eminence  and  entered  the  ministry, 
which  offered  no  inducements  but  an  opportunity 
for  self-sacrifice  and  devotion. 

But  when  he  began  to  minister  to  congregations, 
he  at  once  became  known  as  one  who  had  an 
important  work  laid  upon  him.  He  labored  for 
some  years  in  the  South,  and  became  rector  of 
the  principal  church  in  New  Orleans,  where  he  re- 
mained till  he  went  to  Chicago.  His  last  charge 
was  St.  James's  Church  In  Chicago.  It  was  a  par- 
ish of  strong  and  energetic  men,  able  to  appreciate 
his  intellect  and  his  character;  but  it  had  suffered 
as  other  Interests  had  suffered,  not  many  years  be- 
fore. In  the  terrible  fire  that  laid  that  city  deso- 
late.    The  brave   rector  became   the  worthy   and 


1 6  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

beloved  head  of  a  brave  band  of  Christian  workers, 
and  in  due  time  the  church  more  than  regained 
its  old  prosperity.  Quietly,  without  pretension,  he 
accepted  the  various  representative  places  which 
seemed  to  come  to  him  by  natural  succession,  and 
in  the  General  Convention  he  became  an  active 
member  and  a  forcible  and  respected  debater,  and 
accepted  and  performed  important  business  duties 
with  efficiency.  He  was  offered  and  declined  one 
of  the  bishoprics  of  his  adopted  State,  because  his 
people  at  that  time  needed  him,  and  he  would  not 
desert  them.  During  the  yellow-fever  epidemic  at 
the  South  in  1878  his  activity  in  getting  aid  for 
the  sufferers  gained  him  the  same  general  regard, 
without  reference  to  race  or  creed,  which  he  won 
elsewhere  during  all  his  ministry. 

In  1879  the  Diocese  of  Michigan,  at  its  Annual 
Convention  in  June,  was  under  the  necessity  of 
choosing  a  bishop.  After  some  failures  to  agree 
upon  candidates  presented  to  the  laity  for  concur- 
rence, Dr.  Harris  was  nominated  by  the  clergy  for 
confirmation.  The  convention  contained  the  most 
able  lay  representation  ever  known  in  that  body; 
and  yet  his  career  had  been  so  modest  that  while 
there  was  nothing  suggested  against  him,  there 
was  very  little  known  of  him.  He  was  chosen  by 
no  more  than  the  requisite  majority.  But  as  soon 
as  the  news  of  the  choice  reached  abroad,  the  tele- 


INTRO  D  UCTION.  1 7 

graph  brought  in  a  few  hours  such  numerous  and 
convincing  congratulations,  that  had  there  been 
time  to  consult  the  senders  before  the  vote  was 
taken,  the  lay  vote  would  probably  have  been 
substantially  solid  in  his  favor. 

His  consecration  took  place  Sept.  17,  1879, 
three  days  after  he  had  completed  his  thirty-eighth 
year.  The  necessity  of  having  it  at  such  a  time 
in  the  week  as  would  not  interfere  with  the  en- 
gagements of  the  clergy  in  their  parishes  made  it 
impossible  to  appoint  it,  as  would  have  been  de- 
sirable, on  his  birthday.  It  was  also  the  strong 
wish  of  his  people  in  Chicago  to  have  him  set 
apart  to  his  high  office  in  his  own  church ;  but 
there  were  prevailing  reasons  for  having  the  con- 
secration in  Michigan.  It  was  held  in  St.  Paul's 
Church,  Detroit,  the  oldest  in  the  city  and  State, 
which  was  organized  in  1824,  when  there  was  no 
other  Episcopal  church  between  Lake  Erie  and 
the  Pacific  Ocean;  and  when  Michigan  Territory, 
with  a  white  population  less  than  that  of  most 
small  cities,  included  within  its  jurisdiction  all  of 
the  country  in  the  same  latitude  with  the  Rocky 
Mountains. 

The  occasion  brought  together  an  unusual  num- 
ber of  bishops,  and  personal  friends  of  the  new 
bishop  from  remote  parts  of  the  Union.  The 
consecrating  bishop  was  Richard  Hooker  Wilmer, 


1 8  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

of  Alabama,  —  the  State  where  he  was  born,  — 
who  had  introduced  him  into  the  ministry,  and 
who  loved  him  as  a  son.  When  the  great  con- 
gregation saw  the  solemn  but  hearty  gladness 
with  which  the  eminent  prelates  welcomed  their 
new  associate,  and  when  they  looked  on  him,  as 
his  majestic  form  and  noble  countenance  im- 
pressed every  one  with  the  conviction  that  he 
was  an  unmistakable  and  honest  leader  of  men, 
they  thanked  God  and  took  courage.  They  were 
not  disappointed. 

Bishop  Harris  at  once  took  measures  to  inform 
himself  of  the  state  of  affairs  in  his  diocese.  His 
quick  apprehension  and  systematic  habits  made 
that  an  easy  task,  as  far  as  it  could  be  performed 
without  personal  visitation  in  each  parish,  which 
came  speedily.  His  first  sermon  was  preached  in 
St.  Paul's  Church,  Detroit,  at  the  earliest  opportu- 
nity, and  it  gave  a  clear  idea  of  his  conception  of  a 
bishop's  functions.  It  is  the  first  sermon  in  this 
volume.  As  the  season  was  advancing,  and  the 
Upper  Peninsula  was  not  accessible  readily  in 
cold  weather,  he  made  his  first  visitation  in  that 
part  of  the  State,  and  impressed  every  one  as 
favorably  with  his  wisdom  and  capacity  for  busi- 
ness as  he  had  with  his  personal  merits. 

On  one  of  these  occasions,  being  pressed  for 
time,  and  likely  to  be  detained  at  Detour,  at  the 


INTRO  D  UC  TION.  1 9 

mouth  of  St  Mary's  River,  he  procured  an  open 
Mackinaw  boat  manned  by  two  lads,  and  crossed 
over  the  open  water  forty  miles  to  Cheboygan, 
in  weather  by  no  means  serene,  and  had  to  put 
his  own  hands  to  the  oars  to  carry  the  boat  to 
port.  He  continued  to  visit  the  parishes  until 
he  had  seen  all  of  them.  In  all  cases  he  had 
conferences  with  vestries  as  well  as  ministers,  and 
he  stirred  up  the  church  spirit  wherever  he  went. 
He  had  the  valuable  and  somewhat  rare  faculty 
of  remembering  names  and  faces,  and  he  seldom 
had  any  difficulty  in  recalling  persons  he  had 
met,  and  under  what  circumstances  he  met  them. 
He  had  thus  in  his  mind,  for  ready  reference,  a 
sufficient  knowledge  of  the  situation  and  peculiari- 
ties of  all  the  parishes. 

But,  busy  as  he  was  with  his  diocesan  affairs, 
he  had  already  begun  to  look  beyond  them  to 
their  more  indirect  bearings.  As  was  more  fully 
exemplified  in  his  subsequent  writings  and  ad- 
dresses, he  had  an  intense  devotion  to  the  civil 
institutions  of  the  United  States,  and  believed  it  a 
necessary  part  of  his  religious  duty  to  fulfil  the 
obligations  of  a  citizen.  As  this  view,  often  and 
strongly  expressed,  did  not  always  commend  itself 
to  some  scrupulous  souls  who  do  not  seem  to  re- 
gard the  precept  for  rendering  his  own  to  Caesar 
as   one  of  perpetual   obligation,   it  is  worthy  of  a 


20  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAISF. 

moment's  attention.  The  published  course  of 
"  Bohlen  Lectures  "  deHvered  by  him  some  years 
later  contains  a  series  of  illustrations  of  his  gen- 
eral theory.  He  believed  all  the  essential  organi- 
zations of  human  society  as  no  less  a  part  of  the 
Divine  scheme  for  human  civilization  than  the 
religious  system  ordained  by  the  Ruler  of  the  Uni- 
verse. From  the  family  to  the  State,  as  to  the 
Church,  he  held  that  society  was  one  of  the  ap- 
pointed instruments  for  the  preservation  and  ad- 
vancement of  humanity.  He  believed,  further,  that 
the  plans  of  the  Almighty  are  ordered  generally 
by  law,  rather  than  by  special  interferences,  and 
that  nations  were  usually  left  to  form  their  own 
institutions,  subject  to  the  responsibility  for  their 
conduct,  which  history  has  so  abundantly  exempli- 
fied. He  believed  that  a  popular  government, 
such  as  is  provided  for  and  regulated  by  American 
Constitutional  principles,  is  the  best  of  all  forms, 
and  better  fitted  than  any  other,  if  rightly  main- 
tained and  administered,  to  secure  to  each  citizen 
his  complete  equality  before  the  law,  and  his 
freedom  and  prosperity.  And  believing  this,  he 
was  as  firmly  convinced  that  so  much  of  church 
polity  as  is  of  human  cognizance  should  be  framed 
as  closely  as  possible  in  analogy  to  the  scheme  of 
secular  affairs,  keeping  civil  and  religious  freedom 
in  harmonious  relations,  and  regarding  both  as  an 


INTRODUCTION.  21 

inheritance  from  the  Lord.  His  intense  patriot- 
ism and  his  pride  as  an  American  citizen  were  in 
his  sight  a  plain  and  rehgious  duty.  Accordingly 
he  desired  to  make  prominent  in  his  teachings  not 
only  the  religious  character  of  the  duty  to  respect 
the  rights  of  our  neighbors,  but  to  respect  and 
cherish  the  fabric  of  human  society  as  the  divinely 
ordered  means  for  protecting  those  rights,  which 
have  never  been  respected  and  cannot  be  protected 
without  law  and  government. 

Convinced  as  he  was  that  there  could  be  no  safe 
union  of  Church  and  State,  he  was  convinced  also 
of  the  necessity  for  placing  religion  prominently 
before  the  world  as  the  best  means  of  quickening 
men  in  the  performance  of  all  duties,  and  impress- 
ing them  with  the  value  and  universal  efficacy  of 
pure  motives  as  springs  of  action.  And  as  the 
period  of  education  is  the  time  when  character  is 
formed,  he  was  solicitous  to  bring  such  forces 
to  bear  upon  students  as  would  help  them  to 
become  good  citizens,  by  making  them  recognize 
duty  instead  of  policy  as  the  guide  of  their  lives. 

The  next  day  after  his  consecration  he  first 
expressed  his  solicitude  concerning  religious  influ- 
ences upon  the  students  of  the  Michigan  Univer- 
sity. Admitting  the  impracticability  of  making 
theological  teaching  a  part  of  the  University 
course,  it  was   evident   that   the   ordinary  parish 


22  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

influences  were  inadequate  to  reach  and  control 
large  bodies  of  persons,  who  were  usually  men 
grown,  and  masters  of  their  own  conduct,  and 
many  of  whom  had  no  religious  ties  whatever. 
He  thought  that  Christian  churches  could  not  act 
efficiently  without  some  place  to  which  students 
could  be  attracted  by  legitimate  attractions,  and 
furnished  means  of  companionship  and  quiet  rec- 
reation, as  well  as  facilities  for  religious  cultivation 
in  subjects  not  within  the  scholastic  or  professional 
courses.  The  idea  was  hailed  with  pleasure  by  the 
University  teachers  and  the  people  of  Ann  Arbor, 
as  well  as  of  other  parts  of  the  State,  who  began 
to  look  to  him  as  the  one  capable  of  putting  into 
shape  a  purpose  that  in  its  crude  form  was  so  full 
of  promise.  He  had  said  to  persons  who  were 
the  strongest  supporters  of  the  University,  what 
at  first  seemed  paradoxical,  —  that  he  was  more 
deeply  concerned  in  its  welfare  than  they  were. 
Its  truth  was  recognized  when  he  pointed  out  that 
a  bishop  is  bound  to  his  diocese  for  life,  while 
other  men  can  at  all  times  change  their  residence 
and  go  where  they  please.  The  history  of  the 
development  of  this  idea  would  form  a  long  but 
instructive  chapter  by  itself  He  revolved  it  con- 
tinually. Scheme  after  scheme  was  urged  upon 
him,  and  to  some  of  them  he  was  inclined  strongly, 
until  convinced  they  w^ould  not  do.     He  became 


INTRODUCTION.  23 

satisfied,  some  time  before  his  plan  finally  became 
determined,  that  while  any  scheme  adopted  should 
be  under  his  supervision,  and  kept  in  harmonious 
relations  with  the  church  which  had  called  him  to 
its  service,  its  advantages  should  be  open  to  all 
students,  of  whatever  creed,  who  desired  to  profit 
by  its  facilities.  During  the  latter  days,  when  it 
was  gradually  acquiring  symmetry,  he  was  ap- 
proached by  several  theological  students  of  other 
denominations,  who  urged  him  earnestly  to  bring 
his  work  into  operation.  The  patient  waiting  and 
reflection  of  several  years  at  last  brought  him  to 
a  satisfactory  conclusion.  Without  going  into  full 
details,  it  may  be  said  that  it  includes  a  spacious 
building  furnished  with  lecture  and  reading  rooms, 
library,  parlors,  and  rooms  for  physical  exercises, 
under  charge  of  a  guild,  made  up  chiefly  of  stu- 
dents and  professors  electing  their  own  agencies, 
and  left  with  a  very  large  discretion  in  manage- 
ment, subject  to  the  approval  of  the  bishop.  They 
were  authorized  to  conduct  general  literary  exer- 
cises, and  procure  ordinary  lecturers,  with  the  same 
approval.  To  provide  the  specially  religious  fea- 
tures of  the  plan,  three  or  more  annual  courses 
of  lectures  were  contemplated,  each  course  to  be 
reasonably  endowed,  and  conducted  by  lecturers 
appointed  by  the  bishop.  These  lectures  are  all 
designed  to    deal  with    those   subjects    especially 


24  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

which  bear  on  the  relations  of  religion  with  society 
and  education ;  and  these  courses  are  open  to  all 
who  choose  to  attend  them.  Single  lectures  are 
also  contemplated,  by  persons  appointed  by  the 
bishop,  on  similar  topics.  The  Baldwin  Lecture- 
ship has  been  fully  endowed,  and  two  courses  de- 
livered under  it  have  already  been  published. 
Progress  has  been  made  with  the  others,  and  the 
experience  thus  far  has  been  satisfactory,  and  is 
believed  to  have  solved  one  of  the  most  important 
problems  of  education.  The  Hobart  Guild  Hall 
is  a  successful  venture. 

This  has  been  referred  to  at  some  length,  be- 
cause it  is  the  only  instance  in  which  the  pur- 
poses and  ideas  of  Bishop  Harris,  beyond  his 
official  work,  have  been  materialized  and  made 
operative  under  his  own  care. 

His  first  official  efforts  were  made  to  extend 
the  preaching  of  the  gospel.  In  this  work  his 
energy  and  good  judgment  were  both  so  ap- 
parent, that  the  contributions  for  Diocesan  Mis- 
sions were  increased  rapidly,  and  to  an  unhoped- 
for extent,  and  the  increase  has  been  progressive. 
Mission  work  has  been  enlarged  and  systematized, 
and  many  promising  fields  have  been  opened. 
Not  very  long  after  this  impulse  was  received, 
one  of  those  devastating  fires  occurred  in  the 
eastern  part  of  the  State  which  have  become  so 


IN  TROD  UCTION.  2  5 

dreaded  in  the  timber  districts,  and  a  large  sec- 
tion was  laid  waste,  with  complete  destruction 
of  farms  and  buildings,  and  some  loss  of  life. 
Bishop  Harris  organized  an  active  corps  of  as- 
sistants, and  collected  and  distributed  large  con- 
tributions among  the  sufferers.  Beyond  this  he 
obtained  means  for  building  comfortable  places 
for  worship,  which  became  mission  centres.  His 
character  and  ways  had  acquired  such  admira- 
tion and  confidence,  that  an  attempt  made  to 
enable  the  parishes  to  gain  enlarged  power  to 
contribute  to  missions,  by  relieving  them  from 
supporting  the  Episcopate,  led  to  the  collection 
in  cash  means,  within  a  few  weeks,  of  an  addi- 
tion to  the  Episcopal  Fund  of  $50,000,  all  of 
which  was  due  to  faith  in  the  bishop.  Several 
thousand  dollars  of  this  came  from  personal  ad- 
miration of  his  nobility  and  beauty  of  character, 
outside  of  church  membership  or  attachment. 

The  story  of  his  episcopate  within  his  diocese 
becomes  one  of  those  fortunate  narratives  which 
have  little  to  tell  beyond  steadily  increasing 
peace  and  prosperity.  The  people  are  said  to 
be  happy  who  have  no  history;  but  that  con- 
dition is  only  reached  by  the  heroic  and  constant 
sacrifices  of  those  who  give  themselves  and  their 
lives  to    secure    its   preservation.     When  any  jar 


26  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

comes,  it  is  found  that  the  smooth  motion  was 
the  result  of  great  forces  kept  working  under  or- 
derly restraint.  The  greatest  peace  is  the  work 
of  the  greatest  energy  and  wisdom. 

A  bishop  who  achieves  this,  and  only  this,  is 
justly  reckoned  as  a  faithful  and  wise  steward, 
and  his  name  is  held  in  honor.  Bishop  Harris 
did  all  for  his  diocese  that  wisdom  could  sug- 
gest and  fidelity  and  zeal  accomplish.  He  never 
neglected  his  home  duties  for  other  occupations. 
The  prosperity  of  the  churches  was  foremost  and 
continually  in  his  mind  and  heart.  He  carried 
his  heavy  official  burden  cheerfully,  and  answered 
all  calls  promptly.  His  clergy  leaned  on  him  for 
advice  and  comfort  as  children  on  a  loving  father. 
When  he  visited  their  parishes,  his  coming  was 
looked  for  and  welcomed  by  old  and  young  of 
every  station,  for  the  gentle  courtesy  and  loving 
frankness  of  his  personal  recognition.  He  never 
chilled  any  one,  however  unimportant,  by  con- 
descension or  formal  urbanity.  As  a  high-bred 
Christian  gentleman,  and  a  true  American,  he  re- 
spected the  dignity  of  our  common  manhood. 

But  he  had  clear  ideas  of  a  field  of  duty  which 
was  not  theological  in  the  ordinary  sense  of  that 
word,  although  it  took  in  his  sight  the  form  of 
Christian  obligation.  Regarding,  as  has  been  al- 
ready hinted,  the  Church  and  all    its    instrumen- 


INTRODUCTION-.  2/ 

talities  as  placed  here  in  activity,  not  only  for 
God's  glory  but  for  the  highest  benefit  of  the 
human  race,  and  especially  of  that  part  of  it 
where  his  own  lot  was  cast,  he  naturally  kept 
before  him  the  end  as  well  as  the  means.  He 
could  not  do  this  without  seeing  that  other  in- 
struments and  methods  than  those  of  the  church 
were  doing  much,  and  might  do  more,  to  ad- 
vance the  prosperity  and  further  the  highest  in- 
terests of  his  fellows  and  their  organizations.  His 
quick  sympathies  and  tenderness  led  him  first  of 
all  to  lament  the  variances  which  defeat  so  much 
good,  and  the  cruelties  which  crush  out  so  much 
courage  and  ruin  so  many  hopes.  And  he  found 
in  our  schemes  of  education  much  lamentable 
disregard  of  the  more  exalting  functions,  and 
much  fragmentary  teaching,  that  lacked  organic 
union  with  the  vital  forces  of  truth  and  wisdom. 
With  no  sanguine  notions  of  wonders  that  he 
might  accomplish,  and  no  assumption  that  he 
had  a  special  mission,  he  seized  the  frequent 
opportunities  offered  -him  of  making  public  ad- 
dresses before  public  audiences,  at  college  com- 
mencements, congresses  and  conventions,  and 
other  gatherings  where  sound  words  are  not  ir- 
relevant, and  advocated  the  things  he  believed 
in  with  such  force  and  eloquence  that  his  words 
were  not  wasted.     He  delivered  on  one  occasion 


28  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

at  least,  in  the  Michigan  University,  the  annual 
Commencement  Day  Address,  which  has  there 
superseded  all  the  former  ceremonies,  and  is  in- 
tended to  be  a  worthy  ending  to  the  scholar's 
course  of  training.  His  love  for  young  men,  and 
his  enthusiasm  for  all  that  exalts  and  embellishes 
scholarship,  and  lifts  it  to  the  highest  plane  of 
dignity  and  usefulness,  aroused  him  to  exert  all 
his  powers  to  make  his  contribution  worthy.  His 
bright  and  piercing  eyes,  his  sweet  and  powerful 
voice,  his  commanding  stature  and  elegant  grace 
of  posture  and  gesture,  and  the  kindly  expression 
that  made  his  handsome  face  radiant,  charmed 
his  entire  audience,  and  they  became  responsive 
to  him  as  a  musical  instrument  to  its  master. 
His  occasional  visits  and  deliverances  to  students 
are  among  their  best  traditions.  He  presided  at 
the  Church  Congress  held  in  Detroit  a  few  years 
ago,  and  not  only  made  an  opening  address, 
which  was  not  surpassed  if  it  was  equalled  by 
any  of  the  papers  or  speeches  presented  by  the 
distinguished  men  who  took  part  in  the  Congress, 
but  attracted  still  more  admiration  by  his  course 
as  a  presiding  officer.  With  firmness  that  al- 
lowed no  dispute,  and  courtesy  that  made  the 
discipline  pleasant,  he  gave  each  topic  its  proper 
place  and  each  speaker  his  allotted  time,  and  no 
more,  so  that  the  programme  was  filled  precisely 


introduction:  29 

as  intended,  and  what  is  sometimes  a  rather  cha- 
otic assemblage  was  made  a  model  of  order. 

While  no  one  appreciated  better  the  impor- 
tance of  the  duties  to  which  he  had  sacrificed 
his  worldly  prospects,  and  he  had  decided  con- 
victions that  his  religious  associations  were  most 
accordant  with  primitive  Christian  polity,  he  felt 
a  warm  regard  for,  and  was  in  hearty  sympathy 
with,  the  sincere  devotion  of  Christian  ministers 
of  other  denominations  in  their  religious  labors. 
They  were  in  his  sight  brethren  serving  the  same 
Master,  and  doing  his  work.  He  gave,  and  they 
desired,  no  renunciation  of  convictions ;  but  while 
their  public  services  were  distinct,  they  took  sweet 
counsel  together,  and  he  was  to  many  of  them  a 
father  as  well  as  a  brother.  They  hastened  to 
join  in  the  honors  rendered  to  his  memory,  and 
in  pulpit  and  press,  as  in  private  conversation, 
they  lamented  for  him  as  a  great  captain  of  the 
Lord's  host,  and  a  holy  and  humble  man  of  God. 
One  of  the  most  powerful  addresses  he  ever  made 
was  at  the  meeting  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance  in 
Washington,  not  very  long  ago,  which  attracted 
attention  everywhere,  and  has  been  referred  to 
by  the  press  since  his  death  as  placing  him  at 
the  very  front  as  a  great  orator  and  a  great  and 
large-minded  man. 

But  his  heart  was  especially  interested  in  the 


30  THE   DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

vital  social  problems  which  are  exercising  most 
thinking  persons,  and  the  solution  of  which  is  one 
of  the  pressing  needs  of  our  time.  He  held  none 
of  those  Utopian  ideas  which  look  to  the  destruc- 
tion of  private  interests  and  possessions,  and  he 
did  not  imagine  that  society  would  be  set  at  rest 
by  any  levelling  of  fortunes  at  the  expense  of 
diligence  and  industry.  He  did  believe  that  hu- 
man society  is  largely  at  fault  for  the  oppression 
that  is  done  under  the  sun,  and  the  power  for 
mischief  that  is  possible  under  laws  and  usages 
which  facilitate  irresistible  combinations  of  men 
or  of  money  to  paralyze  opposition.  For  this 
he  set  forth  no  panacea.  He  was  too  conscien- 
tious to  champion  any  plan  until  it  satisfied  his 
sober  judgment,  after  long  study  and  reflection. 
But  it  was  one  of  his  cherished  desires  to  make 
this  his  principal  subject  of  consideration  in  the 
future,  and  in  patience  and  perseverance  to  devise 
or  aid  others  in  devising  means  to  diminish  the 
evil  and  cultivate  harmony.  But  of  one  thing  he 
persuaded  himself,  and  it  is  the  theme  of  many 
utterances,  —  that  the  peace  and  good-will  which 
were  sung  by  the  angels  at  the  Nativity  were  the 
only  absolute  remedy.  When  times  are  out  of 
joint,  tempers  become  unreasonable;  but  every 
one  knows  that  poverty  is  not  half  so  bitter  as 
lack  of  sympathy,  and    that  there  is  no  greater 


INTRODUCTION,  3 1 

cruelty  than  wounding  self-respect.  This  was  the 
meaning  of  his  uniform  assertion  of  equality  in 
rights  under  Divine  and  human  law,  which  renders 
all  honest  work  respectable,  and  denies  the  right 
of  any  one  who  buys  another's  service  to  assert 
that  manhood  is  to  be  thrown  into  the  bargain. 

As  Bishop  Harris  never  used  the  pulpit  for 
any  purpose  beyond  that  of  preaching  the  gospel, 
there  were  many  phases  of  life  and  action  on 
which  he  could  only  address  the  public  through 
the  press  or  by  secular  addresses.  He  had  not 
been  long  in  his  diocese  before  his  genius  and 
eloquence  made  him  desired  as  a  public  speaker 
in  various  parts  of  the  United  States.  While  he 
never  left  home  unless  he  could  do  so  without 
prejudice  to  his  home  duties,  his  systematic  order 
gave  him  many  such  opportunities,  and  he  be- 
came popular  and  influential  as  an  orator  and 
moral  teacher.  Audiences  loved  to  listen  to  him, 
and  went  home  delighted  as  well  as  edified. 

He  gave  some  lectures  in  the  New  York  Theo- 
logical Seminary,  in  the  special  course  at  Kenyon 
College,  at  Philadelphia  under  the  Bohlen  endow- 
ment, and  at  several  conventions  of  scholars  and 
persons  interested  in  reform  and  philanthropic 
work.  Many  of  these  were  published  in  a  fugitive 
form.  The  only  book  he  ever  published  was  the 
**  Bohlen  Lectures."     These  are  a  connected  series, 


32  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

chiefly  devoted  to  exemplifying  the  co-ordinate 
functions  of  religious  and  social  order.  They  are 
thoughtful  and  suggestive,  and  full  of  practical 
wisdom.  Their  conciseness  and  logical  arrange- 
ment render  them  attractive  reading  to  intelligent 
and  scholarly  readers.  It  may  be  that  dilution 
and  expansion  would  have  made  them  easier  of 
digestion  by  some  classes  of  readers;  but  their 
compact  force  and  completeness  indicate  a  mas- 
ter's work. 

Bishop  Harris  generally  spoke  without  refer- 
ring to  his  notes.  He  committed  so  readily  that 
he  could  always  reproduce  in  speaking  precisely 
what  he  had  written.  But  he  was  an  easy  off- 
hand speaker,  and  his  speeches  were  as  polished 
and  complete  in  the  one  case  as  in  the  other.  He 
had,  however,  such  a  conscientious  desire  to  say 
nothing  unguardedly,  that  it  has  been  found,  by 
reference  to  his  papers,  that  on  all  occasions,  so- 
cial as  well  as  public,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  think- 
ing out  and  writing  down,  when  time  permitted, 
what  would  be  an  appropriate  utterance.  It  is 
not  likely  that  when  he  rose  to  his  feet  he  always 
or  generally  repeated  what  he  had  written  with 
verbal  fidelity.  There  are  frequently  occasions 
where  a  speaker  who  is  preceded  by  others  would 
find  himself  covering  the  same  ground  if  he  ad- 
hered to  his  previously  written  manuscript.     No 


INTRO  D  UCTION,  3  3 

one  ever  knew  him  to  fall  into  that  difficulty.  It 
is  more  likely  that  he  wrote  to  fill  his  mind  with 
the  subject  rather  than  the  words.  His  manu- 
scripts are  generally  if  not  always  in  his  own 
handwriting.  He  was  not  inclined  to  use  an 
amanuensis,  but  wrote  very  rapidly,  and  his  pen 
moved  with  the  thoughts. 

When  he  had  his  mind  intent  on  any  subject 
upon  which  he  wished  to  write,  he  not  only  studied 
and  compared  what  he  could  find  in  books  and 
other  receptacles,  but  he  loved  to  converse  on  it, 
and  exchange  views  with  others,  whom  he  usually 
taught  much  more  than  they  taught  him,  but  who 
could  often  from  their  own  experience  or  obser- 
vation correct  or  confirm  his  impressions,  or  bring 
new  light  upon  the  matter. 

But  he  did  not  seek  his  friends  chiefly  to  sharpen 
his  intellect  or  inform  his  mind.  His  nature  was 
eminently  social,  and  there  were  few  more  pleas- 
ant experiences  than  to  meet  him  in  his  hours  of 
rest  and  relaxation  and  listen  to  his  genial  talk, 
and  exchange  those  conversational  thoughts  and 
pleasantries  that  have  their  practical  side  in  cheer- 
ful refreshment,  which  is  the  wise  man's  medicine. 
Although  he  had  not  much  leisure  for  pursuits 
which  did  not  have  some  bearing  on  his  life  work, 
he  had  nevertheless  a  broad  comprehension  of 
what  would  aid   it.     There  are  many  weapons  in 


34  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

the  scholar's  armory,  and  many  exercises  which 
strengthen  his  faculties.  He  liked,  when  he  could, 
to  go  back  to  the  wisdom  of  the  ancients,  knowing 
that  modern  thoughts  have  sometimes  been  dam- 
aged in  the  borrowing.  Plato  was  his  chief  favor- 
ite in  ancient  literature,  and  there  was  at  least  one 
side  of  his  mind  which  would  have  made  him  con- 
genial to  the  old  philosopher.  He  had  also  paid 
much  attention  to  the  theories  and  discussions 
on  ethnology  and  language ;  but  while  his  mind 
was  receptive,  he  did  not  surrender  his  judgment 
unconditionally. 

While  it  is  evident,  from  his  various  writings,  and 
his  private  conversations,  that  he  had  his  thoughts 
fixed  intently  in  one  direction,  yet  the  subject  was 
so  many  sided,  and  the  scheme  so  large,  that  he 
never  became  a  man  of  one  idea,  or  a  harper  on 
one  string.  The  harmonies  of  the  universe  are  all 
in  unison,  but  no  mind  is  large  enough  to  include 
all  of  them. 

Soon  after  the  bishop  came  to  Michigan,  an  es- 
timable lady  of  St.  Paul's  Church  secured  a  lot  on 
the  island  of  Mackinac  as  a  gift  from  Mr.  Gurdon 
Hubbard  of  Chicago,  conditioned  on  its  improve- 
ment. She  procured  sufficient  means  to  build  a 
neat  cottage  and  furnish  it  appropriately  for  sum- 
mer use.  The  bishop  and  his  family  made  it  their 
summer  refuge,  where  he  found  leisure  for  such 


INTR  on  UCTIOAT.  3  5 

work  as  he  cared  to  do  and  needed  quiet  for  doing, 
but  where  he  spent  much  time  in  open-air  enjoy- 
ments, and  in  social  intercourse  with  congenial 
friends  and  neighbors.  The  house  was  far  enough 
away  from  the  summer  bustle  of  the  village  and 
the  crowd  of  the  hotels  to  have  all  the  merits 
of  seclusion,  while  within  a  short  distance  was  a 
colony  of  agreeable  families  to  whom  the  cottage 
in  the  wood  was  as  attractive  as  a  field  of  clover 
to  the  bees. 

This  is  an  imperfect  sketch  of  the  way  in  which 
Bishop  Harris's  life  and  work  were  made  manifest. 
His  plan  was  one  which  counted  all  interests  as 
subject  to  one  family  under  the  Divine  scheme, 
however  separately  grouped  or  subdivided.  And 
while  in  so  short  a  life  as  his  this  could  only  be 
partly  outlined,  yet  the  adherence  to  this  principle 
as  the  cardinal  rule  of  harmonizing  God's  plans 
was  itself  a  proof  of  the  greatness  of  mind  and 
character  that  made  him  a  characteristic  product 
and  leading  spirit  of  our  time. 

Yet,  after  all,  true  greatness  is  not  in  what  is 
written  or  what  is  done,  so  much  as  in  the  man 
himself.  The  men  who  stand  forth  before  others 
in  the  long  procession  of  history  have  left  very 
little  of  their  works  that  we  can  look  at  and  appre- 
ciate.    But  we  know  them,  nevertheless,  as  heroes 


36  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN, 

and  benefactors,  and  we  know  that  their  goodly- 
presence  and  the  sound  of  their  voice  inspired 
love  and  confidence.  When  a  truly  great  man 
appears,  his  greatness  needs  no  expounding,  and 
virtue  emanates  from  his  presence. 

Bishop  Harris,  with  all  his  intellectual  power, 
his  imposing  appearance,  his  simple  and  moving 
eloquence,  his  executive  ability,  and  the  other 
qualities  so  often  dwelt  upon,  ma>^  not  in  any  one 
or  all  of  these  things  have  been  beyond  other  men 
who  never  stood  pre-eminent.  And  it  is  as  diffi- 
cult to  analyze  the  more  subtle  elements  w^hich 
gave  his  personality  its  power  and  charm,  as  to 
apply  scientific  tests  to  the  beauty  of  flowers  or 
the  glory  of  sunset.  The  finer  qualities  which 
excite  love  and  trust  as  well  as  reverence  and  ad- 
miration elude  description.  In  saying  they  exist, 
all  is  said  that  can  be.  But  with  this  difficulty  it 
Avould  do  the  bishop's  memory  great  injustice  if 
some  of  these  manifestations  were  not  pointed  out. 

His  patience  and  gentleness  were  not  the  result 
of  indolent  good-nature.  Any  one  who  knew  him 
well  discovered  that  the  real  secret  of  his  uni- 
form calmness  was  the  absolute  self-control  which 
makes  him  that  ruleth  his  spirit  greater  than  he 
that  taketh  a  city.  His  feelings  were  deep  and 
tender,  and  had  never  lost  their  bloom.  He  was 
naturally  and    always    sensitive.     His   observation 


INTRODUCTION.  37 

was  quick  and  his  reading  of  character  instinctive. 
His  mind  was  not  only  logical,  but  very  acute  and 
discriminating,  and  he  had  a  taste  for  metaphysi- 
cal pursuits  which,  if  he  had  been  a  secluded  stu- 
dent and  not  a  man  of  action,  would  probably 
have  led  him  as  safely  as  any  solitary  mind  can 
go  safely,  yet  with  many  perils,  through  all  the 
labyrinths  and  mazes  which  find  no  end.  But  this 
capacity  of  fine  discrimination,  kept  corrected  by 
the  test  of  daily  experience  of  life  and  its  facts, 
was  of  value  to  him,  and  enabled  him  to  detect 
sophistry,  and  look  at  all  the  sides  of  each  plan 
or  question  which  he  had  to  consider.  His  great 
love  of  intellectual  diversions  was  one  of  the  things 
in  which  self-denial  was  hardest  and  self-control 
most  bracing.  He  had  also  not  only  a  keen  en- 
joyment of  humor,  but  a  love  of  poetry  and  of 
the  finer  products  of  literature  which  are  so  at- 
tractive to  men  of  delicate  sensibility.  It  may 
readily  be  imagined  that  he  would  have  enjoyed 
shaping  his  own  fancies  in  musical  verse  or  as  mu- 
sical prose,  which  his  fine  ear  would  have  guarded 
from  discords,  and  his  faultless  taste  would  have 
made  charming.  If  he  indulged  in  such  delights, 
he  never  made  it  known  even  to  his  friends.  His 
style  was  chastened,  in  his  sermons  and  essays, 
where  he  might  have  embellished  it  if  he  had 
chosen ;   and  his  memory  was  so  full  of  accurately 


38  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

remembered  gems  of  verse,  that  it  is  remarkable 
he  did  not  glide  off  unconsciously  into  quotations 
or  flights  of  fancy.  He  did  indeed,  but  very  sel- 
dom, adopt  some  poetical  expression  of  an  idea 
that  would  have  lost  force  by  other  treatment,  as 
he  did  in  one  instance  incorporate  into  a  sermon 
the  beautiful  reference  in  Wordsworth  to  the  soul's 
premonitions  of  immortality.  Some  other  equally 
happy  uses  of  poetical  extracts  make  us  wish  that 
his  leisure  and  his  sense  of  duty  might  have  al- 
lowed him  more  indulgence.  In  his  multiplied 
capacities  he  had  the  elements  of  a  poet,  which 
he  discarded,  and  of  an  essayist,  which  he  dis- 
played to  advantage  in  many  ways,  but  never 
allowed  to  do  holiday  work.  This  man  of  refine- 
ment and  elegant  taste  and  culture,  frank  as  a  boy 
and  magnanimous  in  thought  and  action,  when 
thrown  among  the  varied  realities  of  life,  where  he 
was  liable  at  all  times  to  have  his  tastes  and 
sensibilities  and  temper  tried  severely,  acquired 
such  admirable  control  of  himself  that  his  temper 
seemed  never  to  be  ruffled;  he  never  indulged  in 
sarcasm  or  even  mild  satire,  and  accepted  cheer- 
fully all  the  privations  of  comfort  and  elegance 
which  came  to  him. 

The  office  of  a  faithful  bishop  has  its  rewards, 
but  it  has  also  its  great  and  small  martyrdoms. 
He   is  condemned  to  a  great   deal  of  that  worst 


INTRODUCTION.  39 

kind  of  solitude,  where  absence  of  congenial 
spirits  is  aggravated  by  the  importunity  of  vexa- 
tious ones.  In  a  large  diocese,  the  number  of 
clergy  and  laymen  who  visit  him,  not  on  errands 
of  social  enjoyment,  but  to  lay  their  burdens  on 
him,  as  well  as  perhaps  in  some  cases  to  add 
some  weight  to  his  own,  is  very  considerable. 
Pious  men  of  all  kinds  represent,  very  much  as 
others  do,  many  phases  of  human  nature.  Grace 
and  fundamental  goodness  do  not  entirely  oblit- 
erate the  old  Adam.  A  narrow  m.ind  sees  nothing 
but  folly  in  the  broad  wisdom  of  a  great  one. 
An  obstinate  disposition  perseveres  in  stolid  op- 
position, with  small  regard  to  reason.  A  vulpine 
nature,  however  sanctified,  never  moves  in  straight 
lines;  bluntness  may  become  insufferable  impu- 
dence. Weak  men  shuffle  off  their  own  respon- 
sibilities on  his  broader  shoulders,  and  then  waste 
his  time  with  getting  up  a  pretence  of  activity. 

A  bishop  may  be  made  of  stern  enough  material 
to  bring  them  all  to  their  bearings,  and  deal  with 
them  sharply  and  in  plain  language,  and  exhibit 
them  to  themselves  as  they  appear  to  him.  The 
world  would  not  much  blame  him  for  doing  so; 
but  it  would  bring  sullenness  and  vindictiveness 
or  heartbreak.  Bishop  Harris  received  all  men 
patiently  and  kindly,  and,  as  far  as  human  nature 
would  respond  to  him,  affectionately.     If  he  could 


40  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

not  satisfy  the  unreasonable,  or  acquiesce  in  what 
was  wrong,  he  sent  no  one  away  wounded  or 
humiliated.  And  if  some  self-tormenting,  over- 
scrupulous person  came  to  him  morbidly  invit- 
ing penance  and  discipline,  he  encouraged  him 
to  more  manly  and  wholesome  ways,  and  sent 
him  out  rejoicing  into  the  sunshine.  The  house- 
hold is  happy  where  the  father's  face  is  cheering 
and  comforting. 

A  life  so  devoted  and  beneficent  is  not  always 
a  joyful  one.  But  Bishop  Harris  was  not  only 
cheerful  and  contented,  but  happy.  He  had  one 
great  privation  in  the  difficulty  of  always  finding 
congenial  associates  to  discuss  face  to  face  the 
subjects  which  interested  him.  But  such  enjoy- 
ment was  not  by  any  means  so  rare  as  to  be 
notable.  He  frequented,  when  he  had  leisure,  a 
club  of  intellectual  men,  who  discussed  all  manner 
of  subjects  freely  and  unceremoniously,  and  if  they 
did  not  help  him  in  dealing  with  his  special  topics, 
they  sharpened  his  faculties,  and  gave  him  recre- 
ation as  well  as  profit.  And  it  has  happened  to 
him,  as  often  happens  to  bright  men  of  his  kind, 
that  persons  of  entirely  different  genius  and  tem- 
perament became  attached  to  him,  and  admired 
him  almost  passionately. 

To  those  whom  he  honored  with  his  friendship 
and  attachment   he   was   a   charming  companion, 


IN  TROD  UCTION.  ^  I 

full  of  brightness  and  animation,  and  confiding, 
tender,  and  sympathizing.  He  had  a  healthy 
taste  for  innocent  enjoyments,  and  when  he  was 
worn  down  by  confinement  and  worry,  it  de- 
lighted him  to  accompany  a  brother  of  the  angle 
to  the  secluded  waters  of  some  solitary  inlet  on 
Lake  Superior,  or  launch  out  from  the  coast, 
where  his  skill  or  good  fortune  generally  gained 
him  the  larger  share  of  the  prey.  He  had  a  love 
of  Nature  in  all  its  manifestations,  and  was  a  close 
observer  of  animals  and  plants;  and  animals  loved 
him.  One  of  the  pleasures  he  had  planned  for 
himself,  after  he  should  return  from  his  last  jour- 
ney, was  a  study  of  the  ornithology  of  Michigan, 
with  which  he  was  anxious  to  become  familiar. 

His  home-life,  which  was  beautiful,  will  not  be 
dwelt  on  here. 

But  some  one  who  believes  that  a  biographer 
should  be  inflexible  as  Rhadamanthus  may  ask. 
Was  this  man  perfect  ?  Good  reader,  this  is  not 
a  biography,  but  the  poor  attempt  of  a  friend 
w^ho  loved  him  to  depict  a  part  of  his  merits. 
In  this  forum  there  is  no  need  of  a  Devil's  Advo- 
cate to  invent  objections  to  canonization.  What 
defects  he  had  were  not  such  as  a  friend  need 
search  out;  and  his  enemies,  if  he  had  any,  did 
not  venture  to  trumpet  them. 

The  fact  that  he  grew    greater   and  wiser  con- 


42  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

tinually,  showed  that  he  had  once  been  behind 
his  later  growth.  Happy  is  .the  man  who,  when 
he  progresses,  goes  upward  and  not  downward. 
He  was  pure,  brave,  tender,  honest,  faithful.  He 
loved  God  and  loved  men.  The  faults  or  defects 
of  such  a  character  need  not  exercise  the  charity 
of  any  one. 

In  June  last  he  went  with  his  daughter  and 
some  friends  to  attend  the  Convention  of  Bishops 
of  the  British  and  American  and  Colonial  Epis- 
copal Churches,  and  to  spend  some  time  in  trav- 
elling through  Great  Britain  and  the  Continent, 
meaning  subsequently  to  go  to  Greece,  Egypt, 
and  Palestine.  He  had  become  very  much  wearied 
by  his  labors  at  home  before  he  went,  and  he  de- . 
voted  himself  in  England  to  the  business  of  the 
Conference,  and  was  obliged  to  undergo  many  of 
the  more  trying  social  ordeals,  and  gained  no  rest. 
On  the  15th  of  July,  while  preaching  in  Winches- 
ter one  of  the  sermons  in  this  volume,  he  had 
a  slight  attack  of  vertigo,  which  for  a  moment 
disturbed  him,  but  did  not  prevent  him  from 
completing  his  discourse.  But  within  a  day  or 
two  he  began  to  grow  weaker,  and  showed  some 
signs  of  a  lesion  of  the  brain,  and  grew  gradually 
more  feeble,  until  at  last  he  became  unconscious, 
and  on  Aueust  21,  at  sunset,  he  died.     His  funeral 


INTRODUCTION.  43 

was  celebrated  solemnly  in  Westminster  Abbey, 
and  his  memory  was  publicly  and  sincerely  hon- 
ored by  Englishmen  of  mark  and  by  his  own 
countrymen.  A  sad  company  came  with  his 
mortal  part  across  the  Atlantic,  and  after  a  ser- 
vice in  Grace  Church,  New  York,  his  body  was 
brought  to  Detroit,  and  his  funeral  rites  were 
celebrated  in  St.  Paul's  Church.  The  streets 
were  filled  with  mourning  thousands  who  could 
not  find  room  in  the  building,  but  remained  in 
perfect  order  and  quiet  outside.  His  cofiftn  rested 
on  the  spot  where  nearly  nine  years  before  he 
stood  up  and  recited  the  vows  which  pledged 
him  to  the  work  of  the  Episcopate.  He  was  laid 
in  Woodmere,  beside  the  grave  of  his  little  son, 
who  had  gone  before,  and  welcomed  him  to 
Paradise. 

James  V.  Campbell. 


BY  THE  RT.    REV.  HENRY  C.  POTTER,  LL.D. 


SERMON 


MEMORIAL  OF  THE  RT.  REV.  SAMUEL  S.  HARRIS, 
D.D.,  LL.D.,  PREACHED  BY  THE  BISHOP  OF 
NEW  YORK,  AT  THE  DIOCESAN  MEMORIAL 
SERVICE  HELD  IN  ST.  JOHN'S  CHURCH,  DE- 
TROIT,  THURSDAY,  NOV.   22,  1888. 

And  there  was  not  among  the  children  of  Israel  a  goodlier  per- 
son than  he :  from  his  shoulders  and  upward  he  was  higher  than 
any  of  the  people. —  i  Samuel  ix.  2. 

^  I  ^HIS   occasion   is  not  biographical   nor  eulo- 
■^       gistic,    but   memorial.     Suffer   me   to    em- 
phasize  the   distinction,    for   it   implicitly   defines 
my  task. 

I  should  be  glad  if  an  extensive  review  of  the 
life  of  our  friend  might  hereafter  be  made,  for 
it  would  be  a  work  of  enduring  value;  but  this 
is  not  the  place  for  it.  As  little  is  it  the  place 
for  mere  panegyric  or  eulogium.  If  the  purpose 
of  this  holy  house  did  not  prohibit  these,  there 
is  another  restriction  from  which  I  should  be  un- 
able to  shake  myself  free.  I  am  to  speak  this 
evening  of  one  whom  I  greatly  loved  and  deeply 
venerated,  and  I  cannot  forget  that  from  the  Ian- 


48  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

guage  of  mere  eulogy  he  would  have  recoiled 
with  instinctive  and  resolute  disapproval. 

But  he  would  hardly  chide  me,  I  venture  to 
believe,  if  he  knew  that,  in  obedience  to  the  voice 
of  his  stricken  diocese,  I  had  come  here  to-night 
to  tell  you  what  I  remember  of  him,  —  to  recall 
how  in  him,  as  I  profoundly  believe,  the  grace  of 
God  wrought  with  singular  power  and  efficacy, 
and  how  in  his  natural  characteristics,  enriched 
and  ennobled  by  the  indwelling  power  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  there  shone  forth  a  Christian  manhood  at 
once  strong  and  wise,  and  so  worthy  of  our  grate- 
ful imitation. 

It  is  not,  on  the  whole,  an  evil  generation  in 
which  you  and  I  are  living ;  but  there  are,  never- 
theless, tremendous  forces  of  evil  which  are  at 
work  in  it.  They  threaten,  some  of  us  think,  as 
never  before,  much  that  is  sacred  and  venera- 
ble. They  deny,  with  increasing  frequency  and 
audacity,  the  presence  in  the  world  of  the  super- 
natural. They  deny  the  being  of  God  and  the 
operations  of  his  Spirit.  They  disown  his  Word 
written  and  his  Kingdom  mystical,  and  for  all  these 
they  demand,  with  more  and  more  strenuous 
insistance,  the   evidence. 

Well,  we  have  come  here  to-night,  men  and 
brethren,  to  furnish  the  doubters  of  fundamental 
verities  with  that  which,  of  all  other  kinds  of  evi- 


MEMORIAL   ADDRESS.  49 

dence  in  such  a  question,  is  at  once  the  most  sub- 
stantial and  the  most  intelligible.  We  offer  them 
the  life  and  work  of  one  who  dwelt  here  among 
you,  who  went  in  and  out  among  these  homes  and 
shops  and  offices,  whom  you  knew,  not  merely  in 
official  ministrations  but  in  the  most  intimate  per- 
sonal contacts  (for  of  almost  all  men  whom  I 
have  ever  known  he  was  the  most  approachable 
and  accessible),  and  we  ask  you  to  explain  such 
a  man  and  such  a  life  upon  any  other  theory  than 
its  being  consciously  lived  under  a  Divine  inspi- 
ration and  unreservedly  consecrated  to  a  Divine 
service.  This  thought  will  dominate  my  task  this 
evening,  and  at  once  define  and  limit  the  words 
which  I  shall  say  to  you.  Forgive  me  if  in  any 
wise  they  shall  seem  to  take  on  a  tone  of  remi- 
niscence too  personal  and  individual.  Others  will 
bear,  as  others  have  borne,  their  testimony  to  this 
noble  life.  I  can  do  little  more  than  tell  what  I 
know  from  personal  intercourse,  irregular,  alas ! 
and  often  for  long  periods  intermitted. 

I  first  came  to  know  Bishop  Harris  when,  in 
the  year  1880,  he  entered  the  House  of  Bishops 
for  the  first  time,  and  took  his  seat  as  a  mem- 
ber of  that  body.  He  had  been  consecrated  on 
the  17th  of  September  in  the  preceding  year 
(1879),  and  the  General  Convention  of  our  Church, 
which  sat  in   1880  in  the  city  of  New  York,  was 


50  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

the  first  occasion  of  his  meeting  his  brethren  in 
the  Episcopate.  He  became  a  member  of  the 
House  of  Bishops  about  the  same  time  that  the 
late  Bishop  of  Western  Texas  (Dr.  Elliott),  and 
the  present  Bishops  of  Kentucky  (Dr.  Dudley), 
West  Virginia  (Dr.  Peterkin),  and  Louisiana  (Dr. 
Galleher)  were  chosen  and  consecrated;  and 
when,  as  Secretary  of  the  House  of  Bishops,  I 
designated  the  seats  of  the  prelates,  who  as  Jun- 
ior Bishops  were  placed  adjacent  to  one  another, 
I  said,  in  playful  allusion  to  the  fact  that  each 
one  of  them  had  during  our  late  Civil  War  been 
an  officer  in  the  Confederate  service,  **  Gentle- 
men, I  am  afraid  I  shall  have  to  nail  up  the 
United  States  flag  on  this  part  of  the  house,"  I 
remember,  as  though  it  were  but  yesterday,  the 
kindly  smile  that  broke  over  the  face  of  the 
Bishop  of  Michigan,  —  a  smile  that  not  only 
showed  to  me  that  my  friendly  pleasantry  had 
not  been  misinterpreted,  but  as  it  were  opened 
a  hitherto  closed  shutter  in  a  house  flooded  in- 
wardly with  light  and  warmth.  From  that  mo- 
ment, I  think,  we  understood  each  other,  as  it  has 
ever  since  seemed  to  me,  intimately;  and  the 
bond  of  brotherly  regard  and  mutual  confidence 
which  then  sprang  into  being  grew  and  strength- 
ened, until  now,  blessed  be  God  !  it  reaches  within 
the  veil. 


MEMORIAL   ADDRESS.  5  I 

What  a  rich  and  gracious  hfe  it  was  which 
then  disclosed  itself!  Samuel  Smith  Harris  was, 
indeed,  a  Southerner  in  all  that  is  best  and  most 
affluent  in  the  name,  and  in  nothing  was  this 
more  singularly  evident  than  in  his  early  develop- 
ment and  maturity.  He  was  the  son  of  an  Ala- 
bama planter,  Buckner  Harris,  Esq.,  of  Autauga 
County,  and  his  school-days  began  at  the  age  of 
four  years.  One  who  was  his  teacher  then^  has 
communicated  since  his  death  to  one  of  his  chil- 
dren her  recollection  of  those  days;  and  these 
reminiscences  are  so  simply  and  touchingly  told 
that  I  cannot  refrain  from  rehearsing  them  here. 
Says  the  writer:  — 

"  Incidents  do  not  make  the  chief  impression  upon  my 
mind  and  heart,  but  rather  the  brilliant  intellect  which 
drew  hard  upon  my  own  superior  years  and  acquirements, 
the  harmony  and  beauty  of  his  character,  and  the  royal 
graces  of  soul  which  magnetized  admiration  into  love 
and  loyalty.  Among  varied  recollections  clustering  about 
a  happy  experience  as  teacher  at  the  South,  none  have 
been  more  cherished  by  me  than  the  associations  with  the 
school  at  Bushy  Knob,  Autauga  County,  Ala. 

"  Its  situation  was  unique,  placed,  as  the  old  school- 
house  was,  amid  luxuriant  vegetation,  quite  near  the 
fordable  and  peaceful  little  stream,  which  on  occasion 
became  a  rushing  flood.  Teacher  and  pupils  were  the 
only  frequenters  of  this  isolated  spot,  except  on  Sundays, 

1  Miss  H.  M.  Perry. 


52  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

when  the  adjacent  church  was  transformed  from  its  ordi- 
nary barn-hke  appearance  into  a  sanctuary  filled  with 
devoutly  earnest  worshippers  after  the  Hard-Shell  Bap- 
tist pattern.  You  may  have  heard  your  dear  father  speak 
of  the  quiet  retirement  of  this  place.  It  was  a  retreat 
favorable  to  intimate  intercourse  between  instructors  and 
pupils,  since  even  the  long  noon  recess  gave  too  brief 
time  to  take  dinner  at  the  widely  scattered  houses ;  but 
dinner-baskets  furnished  an  abundant  luncheon,  brought 
sometimes  by  their  own  hands,  sometimes  sent  by  the 
hands  of  some  not  immortal  Topsy.  It  was  in  these 
noonings  that  I  especially  learned  to  admire  and  love  the 
character  of  '  little  Sam  Harris.'  Why  he  was  called 
'■  little '  by  his  fellow-students  was  an  unsolved  problem, 
since  he  was  tall  for  a  boy  between  the  years  of  ten  and 
eleven,  though  quite  slight  in  figure  and  of  dehcate  ap- 
pearance. He  was  a  remarkably  handsome  boy  to  look 
upon,  and  of  such  attractive  manners  as  to  create  the  wish 
that  he  were  more  diminutive  and  were  possessed  of  less 
dignity,  so  that  one  might  indulge  in  the  caressing  de- 
monstrations which  sometimes  fall  to  the  lot  of  small  boys 
of  the  same  age ;  but  we  each  took  our  luncheon  into 
different  corners  of  the  room,  and  settling  ourselves  on 
the  hard  wooden  benches,  entered  upon  the  intellectual 
intercourse  afforded  us  during  the  delightful  hour  of  lei- 
sure. It  was  not  books  that  occupied  us  then,  but  talk. 
My  enthusiasm  for  imparting  knowledge  was  still  in  its 
youthful  freshness,  and  he  was  an  ardent,  inquiring  learn- 
er; and  although  it  would  be  superfluous  to  recall  the 
topics  which  supplied  matter  on  these  occasions,  yet 
memory  vividly  presents  to  me  the  fact  that  I  enjoyed 
intensely  those  days  of  which  he  writes  to  me  in  a  letter 


MEMORIAL   ADDRESS.  53 

in  May,  1885,  just  after  his  return  from  a  visit  to  the 
scenes  of  his  boyhood  :  '  All  the  old  days  passed  be- 
fore me  in  a  clear-drawn  solemn  vision,  and  none  were 
more  vivid  or  more  joyous  in  memory  than  those  which 
I  passed  under  your  kind  and  inspiring  tuition.  Indeed,  I 
have  never  forgotten  you,  and  have  always  thought  of  you 
with  gratitude  and  affection/ 

"It  may  be  permitted  to  me  to  say  just  here  that  I 
aspire  to  no  loftier  praise,  and  crave  no  sweeter  message 
of  regard  and  remembrance,  than  is  conveyed  in  these 
words. 

"  I  think  he  pursued  his  studies  not  so  much  from 
ambitious  desires  as  from  strong  love  of  knowledge, 
though  ambition,  too,  was  undoubtedly  excited  by  fric- 
tion with  more  mature  minds.  Though  surpassing  his 
companions  in  every  study,  he  aroused  no  jealousy  in 
them.  He  seemed  to  be  made  on  a  different  plan  and 
after  a  different  pattern  from  themselves,  and  that  ap- 
parently increased  the  warmth  of  their  regard,  and  caused 
them  to  become  gentle  under  the  influence  of  his  gra- 
ciousness.  I  recall  one  particular  time  when  one  of  the 
boys,  called  '  long  Tom  Smith,'  rallied  him  on  staying  in- 
doors, and  a  little  scuffle  ensued  in  trying  to  force  him 
out.  Sam  came  off  victor,  although  his  antagonist  was 
large  and  strong  enough  to  carry  him  out  bodily.  How- 
ever, he  was  not  generally  averse  to  sports,  but  was  an 
active,  joyous,  merry-hearted  boy,  whose  companionship 
was  desired  and  sought  by  the  whole  school,  only  at  these 
noonings  he  indulged  his  preference  for  the  society  of  his 
instructors.  Those  of  his  fellow-students  at  that  time  who 
may  be  living  near  the  old  haunts  will,  I  am  certain, 
heartily  concur  with  me  in  rendering  even  more  enthu- 


54  ^^^  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

siastic  praise  than  I  have  ventured  to  indulge  in.  I 
shrink  from  expressing  all  the  praise  which  affection  sug- 
gests, lest  a  wound  be  given  to  the  humility  which 
prompted  him  to  write,  '■  I  do  most  sincerely  trust  that  we 
may  meet  again  in  this  world ;  but  if  that  happiness 
should  be  denied  me  here,  I  do  not  doubt,  if  I  shall  be 
faithful,  that  we  shall  meet  in  the  land  of  the  living.'  He 
was  faithful  to  the  end.  It  remains  for  me  to  follow  his 
example." 

From  school  Samuel  Harris  passed,  at  the  age 
of  fifteen,  to  the  University  of  Alabama,  which  he 
entered  in  the  year  1856.  This  was  an  early 
matriculation,  but  it  would  have  occurred  two 
years  earlier  still,  had  it  not  been  for  his  extreme 
youth,  on  account  of  which  he  was  refused  admis- 
sion. As  it  was,  he  entered  sophomore,  and  was 
graduated  three  years  later.  His  college  life,  a 
friend  writes,  was  a  very  happy  one,  and  he  spent 
a  large  part  of  it  in  the  exceptionally  fine  college 
library,  which  was  afterward  destroyed  by  fire.  It 
was  during  his  undergraduate  life  that  he  rendered 
to  a  friend  whom  he  saved  from  drowning,  and  the 
scar  of  whose  death-grip  he  bore  upon  his  shoul- 
ders for  years  afterward,  a  service  which  became 
prophetic  of  his  latest  and  highest  calling. 

From  college,  in  the  year  1859,  he  passed  at 
once  to  the  study  of  the  law  under  Chancellor 
Keys,  and  was  admitted  to  the  bar  in  i860,  at 
the   age   of  nineteen,  a  special    act   of  the    legls- 


MEMORIAL  ADDRESS.  55 

lature  authorizing  his  admission  at  that  age.  In 
the  following  year  he  married,  and  before  the 
year  had  ended  he  was  confronted  with  the  prob- 
lem of  the  Civil  War,  and  entered  the  Confederate 
service. 

It  was  said  of  Frederick  W.  Robertson,  that  if 
he  had  not  been  a  clergyman  he  would  have  been 
a  soldier;  and  he  more  than  once  implied  him- 
self that  some  of  his  strongest  sympathies  and 
enthusiasms  were  with  that  service.  It  was  not 
so  with  the  young  lawyer  from  Autauga  County. 
The  life  of  the  camp  w^as  not  congenial  to  him, 
and  with  his  refined  instincts  and  sensitive  na- 
ture we  can  well  understand  it.  But  he  had  a 
keen  sense  of  honor  and  of  duty,  and  these  held 
him  to  his  tasks,  principally  those  of  a  staff  ofB- 
cer,  until  the  end.  When  that  had  come,  he  re- 
moved to  New  York  and  resumed  the  practice  of 
the  law,  which  he  continued  until  the  year  1868. 
This  page  of  his  life  is  interesting  and  charac- 
teristic. His  practice,  from  choice,  was  mainly  in 
the  Supreme  Court  He  disliked  and  disdained 
the  arts  by  which  juries  are  too  often  influenced, 
and  still  more  the  sharp  practice  by  which  Jus- 
tice is  too  often  wounded  in  the  house  of  her 
friends.  But  his  pursuit  of  his  profession  was 
eminently  successful,  and  he  never  lost  a  cause. 
Meanwhile,   his   love  of  letters    continued   to    re- 


$6  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

assert  itself.  He  wrote  a  novel,  which  was  pub- 
lished in  1868,  called  *'  Sheltern,"  of  which  a 
discriminating  friend  says  that,  while  open  to  criti- 
cism *'  as  to  style  and  technique,  the  plot  is  good, 
and  shows  quite  decided  powers  of  imagination. 
But,"  the  same  friend  adds,  ''  the  chief  fault  of  the 
book  [of  course  he  is  speaking  of  it  as  a  work 
of  fiction]  is  that  from  end  to  end  the  writer 
moralizes  like  a  born  Scotchman.  In  fact,  if  I 
did  not  know  who  the  writer  was,  I  should  have 
said  that  he  was  a  preacher,  or  ought  to  become 
one." 

Already,  in  other  words,  the  spell  of  his  great 
vocation  was  upon  him.  And  so  it  is  not  sur- 
prising to  find  the  venerable  bishop.  Dr.  Richard 
H.  Wilmer,  of  Alabama,  whose  place  in  this  com- 
memorative service  I  am  unworthily  filling,  and 
whose  absence  from  this  pulpit  you  cannot  regret 
as  much  as  I  do,  writing  of  this  period  in  the  his- 
tory of  Bishop  Harris  in  these  words :  — 

*'  There  are  many  old  citizens  of  Autauga  County, 
Ala.,  who  dwell  fondly  upon  the  early  days  of  Bishop 
Harris,  and  love  to  speak  of  that  refinement  and  courtesy 
of  manner  which  characterized  him  through  life.  The 
writer  of  these  lines  will  speak  of  what  he  personally 
knows. 

"  I  find  upon  my  Episcopal  Records  the  confirmation 
of  Samuel  S.  Harris  at  St.  John's,  Montgomery,  Jan.  17, 
1866.     At  that  time  I  had  no  personal  acquaintance  with 


MEMORIAL  ADDRESS.  57 

him,  and  did  not  again  meet  him  until  some  time  in  the 
autumn  of  1867.  I  often  recall  the  interesting  circum- 
stances connected  with  that  meeting.  I  had  been  that 
day  pondering  the  question,  —  when  does  not  a  bishop 
ponder  it  ?  —  *  Where  shall  we  find  the  right  men  to  fill 
up  the  ranks  of  the  ministry?' 

"Riding  out  home  in  a  street-car,  my  attention  was 
drawn  to  a  stranger  seated  in  the  car.  So  much  was  I 
impressed  by  his  singularly  refined  and  intelligent  coun- 
tenance, that  I  said  to  an  acquaintance,  '  That  is  the  sort 
of  man  I  am  looking  for.'  'Who  is  he?'  said  my  friend. 
'  I  do  not  know,'  I  replied ;  '  but  there  is  something  in 
that  man.'  His  whole  presence  attracted  me,  and  I  in- 
dulged in  speculation  as  to  his  future  life,  longing  to  put 
my  hands  upon  him  for  the  service  of  the  King. 

"The  car  at  last  reached  my  gate,  and  I  got  out.  The 
stranger  followed  me,  and  immediately  said,  'This  is 
Bishop  Wilmer,  is  it  not  ? '  I  assented,  and  then  he 
said,  '  I  am  Harris,  —  Samuel  Harris.  I  am  come, 
Bishop,  to  ofler  myself  to  you  for  the  ministry,  if  you 
will  have  me.  I  have  been  practising  law  in  New  York, 
but  I  feel  called  to  another  vocation,  and  I  have  my 
letter  of  transfer  from  the  Bishop  of  New  York  (Horatio 
Potter),  and  wish  to  enter  the  ministry  in  my  native 
State.' 

"  It  may  be  imagined  how  we  spent  that  night,  and 
with  what  feelings  of  gratitude  to  God  I  marked  out  his 
studies  and  licensed  him  to  act  as  lay-reader  in  St.  John's, 
Montgomery,  that  church  being  then  without  pastoral 
care.  The  good  people  of  St.  John's  will  long  remember 
his  sojourn  among  them.  When  he  was  ordained  deacon, 
shortly  after,  there  was  a  general  desire  on  the  part  of  the 


58  THE   DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

congregation  to  elect  him  to  the  vacant  rectorship ;  but 
I  resisted  it  for  the  reason  that  I  was  unwilHng  to  have 
him  dwarfed  by  an  amount  of  labor  too  great  almost  for 
one  of  maturer  years  and  fuller  preparation. 

"February  lo,  1869,  I  ordained  him  deacon  in  St. 
John's,  Montgomery.  He  was  presented  for  ordination 
by  the  Rev.  J.  F.  Smith,  a  dear  friend  of  his  and  of  his 
father's  house. 

"June  30,  1869,  I  ordained  him  priest  in  the  same 
church  where  he  had  received  confirmation  and  deacon's 
orders. 

"  At  that  time  he  was  called  to  the  rectorship  of  the 
church  at  Columbus,  Ga.  His  career  since  that  time  at 
Trinity,  New  Orleans,  and  at  St.  James,  Chicago,  is  known 
to  the  Church. 

"  Again  we  met  at  his  consecration  to  the  Bishopric  of 
Michigan.  He  said  that  I  had  confirmed  him,  ordained 
him  deacon  and  priest,  and  that  now  his  wish  was  that  I 
should  officiate  as  the  consecrating  bishop. 

"  The  Standing  Committee  have  now  requested  me  to 
officiate  at  his  memorial  service.  It  seemed  most  fitting 
that  I  should  perform  for  him  this  last  service,  but  I  did 
not  feel  equal  to  it.  Accumulating  labors  and  declining 
strength  warned  me  that  some  other  and  younger  man  — 
some  one  who  had  been  thrown  into  more  intimate  rela- 
tions with  him  during  his  episcopal  life,  and  had  caught 
something  of  his  inspiration  —  would  discharge  the  duty 
more  acceptably.  If  life  be  measured  by  its  interest  and 
intensity,  he  died  full  of  years  as  of  honors.  Few  men 
have  compressed  more  of  labor  into  a  brief  period.  All 
that  he  had  of  natural  attractiveness  and  gracious  influ- 
ences he  consecrated  to  the  Master.       His  Master  was 


MEMORIAL  ADDRESS.  59 

satisfied   with  the   servant's  work.     Ere  midday  he  had 
finished  a  full  life's  task.     '  Even  so,  Father  ! '  " 

This  is  the  brief  outline  of  his  life;  and,  as  I 
began  by  saying,  it  is  not  the  office  of  such  an 
occasion  as  this  even  to  attempt  to  fill  it  out. 
That  is  a  task  which  demands  a  much  larger 
opportunity,  even  as  I  hope  it  may  find  to  per- 
form it  a  far  more  competent  hand. 

But  even  as  we  review  the  outline  there  stand 
out,  here  and  there,  incidents  which  are  at  once 
characteristic  and  illustrative  of  the  whole.  Bishop 
Harris  was  pre-eminently  a  devout  man,  to  whom 
the  personal  element  in  religion  was  before  all 
else  of  consequence.  And  so  it  came  to  pass  that 
in  his  earlier  ministry  his  sympathies  went  out  in 
directions  where  he  thought  he  saw  evidences  of 
pre-eminent  sancity,  reverence,  and  consecration. 
But  where,  on  nearer  approach,  he  discovered  the 
semblances  of  such  things  rather  than  the  things 
themselves,  no  pride  of  consistency  prevented  him 
from  correcting  his  previous  impressions  and  modi- 
fying that  course  of  action  which  they  had  deter- 
mined. He  was  a  Churchman  from  patient  study, 
and  profound  conviction  based  upon  that  study. 
His  law  practice  had  been  in  the  upper  courts, 
and,  as  the  friend  from  whom  I  have  already 
quoted  writes  of  him,  just  because  "  his  study  had 
been  constitutional  law  and   equity,   and    not  the 


6o  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

arbitrary  rules  of  practice,"  and  just  because  ''  con- 
stitutional law  deals  with  historical  facts  and  the 
historic  development  of  institutions,"  therefore  it 
was  that  when  he  came  to  the  study  of  the  Church 
he  was  ready  to  appreciate  the  divine  principles 
of  its  historic  life,  and  its  development  as  an 
institution.  To  him  the  Church  was  the  spiritual 
kinedom  of  God  in  the  world ;  and  hence  to  him 
every  spiritual  force  and  energy  in  the  world  is 
really  of  and  belongs  to  the  Church,  and  men 
may  be  in  and  of  the  Church  without  themselves 
knowing  it,  or  even  while  vehemently  denying  it. 

He  did  not  disesteem  his  office  as  a  priest  of 
God,  and  neither  did  he  belittle  it.  The  Church 
he  held  to  be  a  priestly  body;  and  the  priesthood 
of  the  laity  is,  he  maintained,  a  cardinal  fact  which 
it  is  the  pressing  need  of  the  time  to  realize,  no 
less  than  that  of  the  ministry.  As  to  the  minis- 
try, he  held,  with  increasing  emphasis,  that  it  must 
vindicate  its  claim  to  that  title  by  ministering  in 
all  things ;  and  one  of  the  texts  which  he  oftenest 
preached  from  was,  **  The  Son  of  man  came  not 
to  be  ministered  unto,  but  to  minister."  Of  the 
Episcopate,  he  held  that  it  is  a  function  of  the 
ministry,  which  is  weakened  and  not  strengthened 
by  isolation  from  whatever  is  included  in  that 
larger  term. 

As  he  advanced  in  years,  and  in  knowledge  of 


MEMORIAL  ADDRESS.  6 1 

books,  of  men,  and  of  his  age,  there  is  no  doubt 
that  the  prophetic  office  grew  to  be  of  pre-eminent 
consequence  in  his  judgment;  and  his  estimate  of 
it,  and  of  its  duty  in  our  generation,  is  set  forth 
with  impressive  force  and  clearness  in  the  lectures 
which  he  delivered  before  the  General  Theological 
Seminary. 

It  was  along  this  line  that  he  aimed  to  work  in 
his  efforts  for  the  reunion  of  Christendom.  He 
believed  profoundly  with  De  Maistre,  that  our 
Anglican  branch  of  the  Church  Catholic  resembles 
one  of  those  chemical  intermediaries  which  bring 
into  harmonious  combination  things  that  are  re- 
pugnant to  one  another;  and  he  held  that  as 
the  Church  of  the  Reconciliation  we  had  a  min- 
istry of  teaching  to  discharge  with  large  and  in- 
exhaustible patience  and  love.  For  this  work  his 
own  experience  peculiarly  trained  him ;  for  he  had 
(rare  and  happy  preparation  for  his  ministry!) 
known  the  laity  as  one  of  them,  first  as  a  soldier 
and  then  as  a  lawyer,  and  he  could  see  burning 
questions  as  bishops,  priests,  and  deacons  too 
often  fail  to  do,  from  the  layman's  standpoint, 
as  well  as  from  his  own. 

Moreover,  he  had  been  through  deep  waters  in 
his  mental  experience,  and  did  not  escape  what 
has  been  called  "the  malady  of  our  times."  What 
he  learned  in  those  hours  of  darkness  he  never 


62  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

forgot;  and  when  he  emerged  from  them  with 
their  scars  upon  his  grave  and  thoughtful  coun- 
tenance, he  was  better  fitted  than  he  had  ever 
been  before  to  understand  the  meaning  of  his 
priesthood,  and  the  nature  of  his  message  and 
ministry  to  his  fellow-men.  The  tone  of  self- 
confident  dogmatism,  if  it  had  ever  been  there, 
had  vanished.  The  childlike  humility  was  deep- 
ened, the  love  of  God  and  of  his  fellow-men  was 
enlarged,  and  that  noble  vision  of  the  Church's 
ofiice  in  the  world,  which  with  such  rare  elo- 
quence and  splendid  courage  he  set  forth  in  his 
address  before  the  recent  Conference  in  Wash- 
ington, became  to  him  a  daily  and  ennobling 
inspiration. 

And  thus  swiftly  he  had  ripened  and  greatened, 
until  men's  eyes  all  over  the  land  were  turned  to 
him  with  ever-growing  appreciation,  interest,  and 
hope.  ''  Among  all  the  children  of  Israel  there 
was  not  a  goodlier  person  than  he :  from  his 
shoulders  and  upward  he  was  higher  than  any 
of  the  people." 

"  From  his  shoulders  upward."  No  one  who 
ever  saw  Bishop  Harris  could  fail  to  be  impressed 
by  his  noble  and  stately  presence.  Physical  quali- 
ties are  not  always,  nor  perhaps  often,  indications 
of  those  that  are  higher,  and  greatness  of  stature 
or   bulk    may    very    easily    be    accompanied    by 


MEMORIAL   ADDRESS.  63 

meagreness  of  intellect  and  meanness  of  nature. 
But  Saul  was  great,  we  read,  *'  from  his  shoulders 
upward ;  "  and  I  suppose  the  words  may  be  taken 
to  indicate  a  certain  kingly  quality  in  mien  and 
bearing  which  indicated  the  royal  gifts  which 
animated  the  man.  At  any  rate  the  words,  when 
we  think  of  Bishop  Harris  in  connection  with 
them,  have  a  peculiar  and  pregnant  significance. 
As  the  head  crowns  the  body,  and  as  so  the 
noblest  part  of  a  man  is  "  from  his  shoulders 
upward,"  so  in  him  these  qualities  of  which  the 
home  is  the  brain,  and  the  head  with  its  sensitive 
and  expressive  features  is  the  fittest  symbol,  were 
the  noblest  and  most  regal  of  all. 

I.  But,  first  of  all,  let  me  not  forget  to  say  he 
had  great  qualities  of  heart.  Able  men  are  not 
always  —  not  very  often,  I  was  tempted  to  say  — 
lovable  men,  and  the  reason  is  not  far  to  seek. 
But  Bishop  Harris  was  pre-eminently  a  lovable 
man  ;  and  that  simply  because  his  own  nature  was 
enriched  by  a  strong  spring  of  sympathy  and 
tender  regard  for  his  fellows.  No  pride  of  intel- 
lect made  him  imperious,  impatient,  or  contemptu- 
ous. He  drew  to  him  the  hearts  of  children,  of 
poor  men  and  women,  of  those  perplexed  and  in 
trouble,  of  the  miserable  and  outcast,  and  made 
them  captive  by  his  own  love  for  them,  and  by  his 
ever  helpful  revelation  of  that  love. 


64  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

"  He  was  the  best  friend  I  had  in  this  world," 
said  a  prominent  business  man  in  Chicago,  whose 
words,  as  they  appeared  in  a  journal  of  that  city, 
I  cannot  refrain  from  quoting  here :  — 

"  There  are  many  in  this  city  to-day  who  at  the  turning- 
point  of  their  commercial  career,  when  everything  looked 
black,  ruin  staring  them  in  the  face,  have  sought  out  the 
kindly  pastor,  and  in  the  seclusion  of  his  study  found  re- 
lief The  world  has  marvelled  at  the  wonderful  recupera- 
tive spirit  Chicago  business  men  have  shown  in  times  of 
commercial  disaster.  A  different  tale  would  be  told  if 
the  walls  of  Dr.  Harris's  old  study  could  recount  what 
they  have  seen  and  heard.  '  Be  honorable,  and  among 
honest  men  you  have  nought  to  fear,'  was  his  maxim. 

"  I  remember  one  man  who  had  been  living  in  rather 
expensive  style,  but  who,  by  a  sudden  turn  in  the  wheat 
market,  found  himself  on  the  verge  of  collapse.  None  of 
his  friends  had  the  least  intimation  of  the  state  of  affairs  ; 
but,  as  he  afterward  told  me.  Dr.  Harris  approached  him 
one  day,  and  in  curious  manner  led  up  the  conversation 
to  a  point  where  nothing  short  of  a  deliberate  falsehood 
could  help  him  to  conceal  his  straits  from  his  pastor. 

"'I  never  could  remember,'  he  said,  in  relating  the 
circumstances,  '  how  it  all  came  about.  But  we  had  been 
laughing  and  joking  only  a  few  minutes  before,  when  I 
found  myself  opening  up  my  inmost  secrets  to  the  doctor, 
and  I  have  never  ceased  to  thank  God  that  I  did  so.  He 
took  pencil  and  paper,  and  when  I  had  given  him  a  state- 
ment of  my  terrible  condition,  he  proceeded,  like  a  skil- 
ful surgeon,  to  lay  bare  the  wounds  that  were  killing  me, 
not  sparing  me  one  jot  in  matters  that  I  had  always  ex- 


MEMORIAL   ADDRESS.  6$ 

pected  to  bury  with  myself;  but  before  we  had  completed 
the  investigation,  he  had  shown  me  a  way  out  of  my  diffi- 
culties, arduous  enough  it  is  true,  but  nevertheless  a  safe 
and  sure  one,  as  the  sequel  proved.  I  often  spoke  to  him 
about  the  matter  later,  and  was  especially  curious  to  know 
where  he  had  obtained  such  a  mastery  of  intricate  busi- 
ness matters,  —  a  point  on  which  clergymen  are  usually 
the  most  ignorant.  Said  he,  "True  sympathy  between 
pastor  and  people  can  never  exist  unless  the  former 
studies  the  evils  which  may  afflict  the  latter,  and  vice 
versa.  I  find  the  people  here  sympathetic  in  my  troubles 
and  difficulties,  and  why  should  I  not  reciprocate  the 
feeling?'"" 

Why,  indeed,  one  may  well  say,  if  only  one  has 
the  gift  to  feel,  and  the  rarer  gift  to  give  expres- 
sion to  that  feeling ! 

Let  me  reproduce  here  one  other  incident 
illustrative  of  that  nobility  of  the  heart  which  I 
think  you  will  agree  with  me  was  so  pre-eminently 
characteristic  of  Bishop  Harris.  I  take  it  from 
the  same  journal,  and  its  homely  and  outdoor 
characteristics  render  it  in  no  wise  unworthy,  it 
seems  to  me,  of  some  more  prominent  record  than 
it  has  already  found :  — 

"  We  were  walking  along  one  of  the  streets  of  New 
Orleans,"  said  a  friend  of  the  bishop,  "  when  we  met  a 
big  rough  fellow  who  directly  he  caught  sight  of  the 
bishop  came  to  a  sudden  halt  and  seemed  doubting 
whether  to  approach  or  not. 

S 


66  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

" '  Well,  John  ! '  cried  the  bishop,  extending  his  hand  to 
the  man.  The  fellow  wiped  his  huge  palm  on  his  cor- 
duroy trousers  before  venturing  to  touch  the  proffered 
hand,  and  his  bronzed  features  fairly  beamed  with  pleas- 
ure at  the  bishop's  recognition.  Noticing  the  man's  ner- 
vousness, I  withdrew  a  few  paces,  as  I  knew  of  old  that 
it  was  more  than  probable  that  the  conversation  would 
be  one  wherein  an  outsider  would  be  de  trop. 

"  Pretty  soon  the  bishop  rejoined  me  and  told  me  that 
the  man  was  a  lumberman  for  whom  he  had  done  a  tri- 
fling service  in  Upper  Michigan.  The  nature  of  the  tri- 
fling service  I  did  not  inquire,  as  I  knew  how  apt  the 
bishop  was  to  minimize  his  own  efforts. 

"  The  next  day  I  was  out  walking  alone,  when  I  met 
the  Michigan  man.  Recognizing  me  as  a  friend  of  the 
bishop,  he  stopped  to  speak,  and  held  out  a  brawny  hand 
to  me. 

"  *  Ise  mighty  glad  to  see  you,  sir,'  he  said.  '  I  reckon 
you  be  a  friend  of  the  bishop.' 

"  *  Yes,  sir,  I  am  proud  to  say  I  am.* 

"  '  Proud  ?  Well,  I  should  think  so.  Ther  ain't  a  man 
in  the  hull  country  what  shouldn't  be  proud  to  shake 
hands  with  him.* 

"  '  Do  they  think  so  much  of  him  in  Michigan  as  that  ? ' 
I  inquired. 

"  '  As  much  as  that?  I  tell  you  what  it  is,'  —  confiden- 
tially, — '  ther  boys  has  been  talkin'  among  themselves, 
and  they  've  about  decided  to  make  him  Governor  of 
Michigan.'  " 

The  incident  is  homely,  I  have  said,  and  some 
of  you  may  think  it  scarcely  congruous  with  the 


MEMORIAL   ADDRESS.  6^ 

solemnities  of  this  place  and  this  occasion.  But 
when  one  goes  beneath  the  rough  exterior  of  the 
incident,  what  a  fine  strong  fibre  of  sympathy,  of 
reality,  of  large-heartedness  shines  through  it  all! 
Bishop  Harris  never  forgot  his  good-breeding,  his 
refinement,  his  somewhat  stately  and  (alas  for 
the  age  in  which  it  is  so !  )  somewhat  old-fashioned 
courtesy.  But  then,  he  never  forgot  his  manhood, 
nor  the  manhood  of  his  fellow-men.  To  put  him- 
self in  touch  with  that,  always  to  recognize  and 
honor  it,  no  matter  what  the  garb  it  wore,  —  this  was 
the  characteristic  of  one  whose  warm  and  catholic 
kindliness  of  nature,  whose  breadth  of  vision  and 
largeness  of  sympathy  made  the  motto  of  Terence, 
''  Humanus  sum,"  and  the  rest,  —  "I  am  a  man, 
and  nothing  human  is  alien  to  me,"  —  his  motto  in 
all  the  manifold  activities  of  his  tireless  life. 

2.  But  again,  these  great  qualities  of  the  heart 
were  dominated  in  Bishop  Harris  by  qualities  of 
the  mind  which  were  equally  great.  We  may  not 
forget,  in  recalling  the  rare  man  whom  we  are  here 
this  evening  to  remember,  that  his  work  was  ended 
at  a  time  when  the  best  work  of  many  men  is  just 
beginning.  The  years  from  twenty-five  to  forty- 
five  are  years  of  active  service,  it  is  true,  in  most 
lives,  but  they  are  no  less  years  of  the  education 
and  ripening  of  the  best  powers.  And  yet  when 
these  were  ended  with  Bishop  Harris,  he  had  al- 


68  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

ready  accomplished  tasks  which,  both  as  to  char- 
acter and  quahty,  are,  I  venture  to  think,  some  of 
the  most  memorable  in  the  intellectual  history  of 
our  Church  and  our  time.  To  some  of  them  I 
have  already  alluded,  and  to  others  I  can  refer  but 
briefly.  But  taking  two  only  of  them,  they  illus- 
trate the  highest  quality  of  intellectual  excellence, 
as  it  seems  to  me,  in  two  very  opposite  directions. 
One  of  the  things  which  Bishop  Harris  was  per- 
mitted to  accomplish  of  largest  and  most  impres- 
sive significance  was  the  founding,  at  the  seat  of 
the  University  of  Michigan,  of  Hobart  Hall  and 
the  Baldwin  lectureship.  The  problem  of  Chris- 
tian education  is  one  of  which  the  Church  has 
attempted  a  solution  in  many  ways,  and  nowhere 
with  conspicuous  success.  She  has  scattered  her 
energies,  and,  too  often,  missed  her  noblest  oppor- 
tunities.-^ Nothing,  as  I  conceive,  has  indicated  so 
unerringly  the  line  of  action  along  which  these 
mistakes  must  be  corrected,  as  the  line  which 
Bishop  Harris  thought  out,  and  amid  many  diffi- 
culties so  successfully  built  upon.  It  stamped 
him  as  one  with  a  statesmanlike  vision,  and  the 
rarest  wisdom  and  discrimination  in  converting 
into  a  potential  reality  a  really  noble  conception. 
It  revealed  the  true  office  of  the  Church,  and  the 
true  method  and  agency  for  best  discharging  that 
office.     Undoubtedly,  as  someone  has  said  of  him, 

1  See  page  75. 


MEMORIAL   ADDRESS.  69 

he  was  happy  in  a  rare  opportunity.  Ah !  yes. 
It  is  what  the  world  says  of  those  whom  they  are 
fond  of  calling  "  lucky  men."  But  it  is  the  men 
who,  when  the  rare  opportunity  presents  itself, 
have  the  wisdom  to  discern  and  the  courage  to 
seize  and  improve  it,  who  have  been  its  leaders 
and  teachers  and  masters  from  the  beginning,  and 
that,  verily,  by  divine  right. 

And  so  of  another  remarkable  feature  in  the 
intellectual  life  of  the  late  Bishop  of  Michigan,  — 
I  mean  his  "  Bohlen  Lectures  on  Christianity  and 
Civil  Society."  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand  the 
strange  failure  of  his  contemporaries  to  recognize 
the  rare  qualities  of  this  really  great  work,  and  I 
can  only  explain  it  by  assuming  that  it  must  some- 
how have  escaped  the  notice  of  thinking  men. 
Nothing  has  been  (so  far  as  I  saw  them)  more 
superficial,  more  utterly  inadequate  in  almost  every 
element  of  intelligent  appreciation,  than  the  re- 
views of  this  book  which  appeared  when  the  first 
edition  was  published.  A  second  has  recently  fol- 
lowed it,  in  allusion  to  which  I  observe  that  a 
religious  journal  lately  remarked  that  upon  the 
question  at  issue  Bishop  Harris  had  not  spoken 
the  last  word.  Possibly  not;  but,  so  far  as  I  know, 
he  has  spoken  the  clearest,  most  discerning,  and 
most  conclusive  word  which  has  been  spoken  in 
our  generation.     I  speak  with  what  some  of  those 


70  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

who  hear  me  may  regard  as  undue  confidence  in 
this  matter.  Of  course  I  speak  only  my  own  con- 
victions. But  having  been  led  during  the  past 
year  to  read  some  forty  volumes  by  different  au- 
thors on  the  same  general  subject,  I  can  only  say 
that  the  one  writer  among  them  all  who  seemed 
first  to  have  started  out  with  a  firm  grasp  of  cer- 
tain great  principles  and  then  to  have  followed 
them  in  a  philosophic  temper,  so  calm  and  serene 
as  to  make  his  pages  an  increasing  delight,  to  their 
logical  conclusions,  and  that  with  a  reasoning  at 
once  lucid,  vigorous,  and  irresistible,  was  the  dear 
friend  and  teacher  whom  we  are  here  to  mourn 
to-night.  I  am  no  prophet  nor  the  son  of  a 
prophet ;  but  believe  me  when  I  tell  you  that  the 
question  which  in  those  lectures  to  which  I  have 
referred  your  late  bishop  discussed,  —  the  question 
of  the  relations  to  each  other  of  the  Church  and 
the  State,  —  is  a  question  fraught,  in  our  not  very 
distant  national  future,  with  grave  and  portentous 
issues.  And  no  less  firmly  am  I  persuaded  that 
in  the  solution  of  that  question  and  all  the  kin- 
dred questions  of  the  relations  of  Christianity  to 
human  society,  the  great  but  imperfectly  under- 
stood principles  which  Bishop  Harris,  with  the 
hand  of  a  master,  so  clearly  and  conclusively  de- 
monstrated, are  the  principles  upon  which  those 
issues  can  alone  be  permanently  and  happily  set- 


MEMORIAL   ADDRESS.  7 1 

tied.  To  have  rendered  such  a  service  to  his  age 
and  the  Church,  — this  is  to  have  made  them  both, 
I  think  you  will  agree  with  me,  his  lasting  debtors. 

3.  But  greater  than  even  intellectual  excellence 
is  moral  excellence,  —  and  rarer!  And  here,  I 
think,  our  father  and  brother  departed  shone 
brightest  of  all.  I  do  not  know  that  he  was  sin- 
gular in  a  clear  perception  of  the  right.  Many 
men  have  that,  though  it  is  oftener  than  many 
of  us  think  clouded  by  an  apparent  incapacity  to 
appreciate  nice  moral  distinctions ;  but  in  Bishop 
Harris  a  fine  moral  intuition  had  been  ennobled 
and  strengthened  by  scrupulous  discipline  and  the 
highest  inspiration.  His  conscience  enlightened 
by  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  not  any  wish,  ambition, 
or  appetite,  was  his  master.  With  singular  gen- 
tleness he  united  singular  fearlessness;  and  if  a 
thing  appeared  to  him  to  be  clearly  his  duty, 
that,  with  him,  was  enough.  He  was  not  impa- 
tient of  counsel.  It  always  seemed  to  me  one  of 
the  best  indications  of  his  real  greatness  that  he  so 
often  sought  it;  but  when  he  had  received  it,  he 
formed  his  own  judgment  in  simple  dependence 
upon  God  and  in  utter  fearlessness  as  to  the  con- 
sequences. A  friend,^  to  whose  recollections  of 
him  I  have  already  referred,  has  recalled  an  inci- 
dent in  the  General  Convention  of  1874,  to  which 

1  Rev   Dr.  John  Fulton. 


72  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

Dr.  Harris  (as  he  then  was)  was  a  deputy,  which 
impressively  illustrates  this.  It  occurred  in  con- 
nection with  a  discussion  in  regard  to  the  ritual 
law  of  the  Church,  which,  he  maintained,  was  to 
be  found  primarily  in  the  prayer-book,  and  which 
therefore  could  not  be  constitutionally  changed  or 
modified  by  canon.  The  report  of  a  committee 
on  this  subject,  which  took  a  different  view,  was 
adopted  by  the  House  of  Deputies  by  an  im- 
mense majority;  but  Dr.  Harris  voted  against  it 
with  only  five  others,  and  these  deputies  who  were 
supposed  to  be  identified  with  what  are  known  as 
most  "extreme"  views.  He  expected  that  his  vote 
would  cost  him  his  parish,  and  said  so ;  but  that 
consideration  did  not  cause  him  to  hesitate  or 
to  swerve  from  what  he  regarded  as  the  path  of 
duty.  It  is  an  interesting  and  suggestive  fact, 
which  may  here  be  incidentally  noted,  that  the 
House  of  Bishops  concurred  in  his  position,  and 
rejected  the  proposed  canon. 

Such  an  act  was  typical.  If  I  were  at  liberty, 
I  might  match  it  with  similar  action  which  distin- 
guished his  course  when,  later,  he  came  to  have  a 
seat  in  the  House  of  Bishops;  and  you,  I  am  sure, 
who  knew  and  watched  him  in  the  rare  openness 
and  transparency  of  his  daily  walk  and  conversa- 
tion as  he  went  in  and  out  among  you,  could  con- 
firm it  by  abundant  testimonies  which  would  be 


MEMORIAL   ADDRESS.  73 

the  result  of  your  own  long-continued  observation. 
He  was  a  power  in  this  community,  wherever  men 
came  to  know  him,  because  of  his  large  sympa- 
thies, his  strong  intellect,  but  most  of  all  by  his 
unbending  integrity.  There  is  one  relation  in 
which,  did  time  permit,  I  should  rejoice  to  speak 
of  him,  —  I  mean  his  relation  to  his  clergy,  which, 
if  I  could  tell  its  story  here,  would  pre-eminently 
illustrate  this.  With  what  affectionate  solicitude 
he  concerned  himself  for  their  interests,  watched 
for  their  welfare,  sympathized  with  their  burdens, 
counselled  them  in  their  perplexities  and  fail- 
ures. Is  not  all  this  true?  Yes;  but  is  it  not 
most  of  all  true  that  in  that  paternal  and  judicial 
relation  which  he  sustained  to  them  he  forever 
held  up  before  them  the  standard  of  a  high  moral 
ideal,  and  in  his  own  words  and  acts  consistently 
translated  righteous  principles  into  righteous  con- 
duct? And  this  it  was,  more  than  all  else,  that, 
in  all  that  he  was  and  did,  made  him  a  power  for 
God  and  for  good. 

It  would  violate  the  proprieties  of  this  place  if 
I  were  to  speak  of  your  bishop  in  those  relations, 
most  sacred  and  most  tender,  which  he  sustained 
to  those  nearest  to  him.  But  the  Office  for  the 
Consecration  of  Bishops  declares  that  a  bishop 
must  be  one  that  "  ruleth  well  his  own  house ; 
and   the  influence   of  such  an   example  as   his   in 


74  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

every  domestic  relation  will  long  live  to  be  a  per- 
fume and  an  inspiration  in  the  city  and  to  the 
people  among  whom  he  hved.  Those  manly  and 
tender  graces  in  which  he  was  so  rich,  the  never- 
wearying  unselfishness,  the  patient  and  benignant 
gentleness,  —  ah  !  shall  we  ever  forget  them  ?  God 
forbid ! 

For  to  one  at  least  who  to-day  recalls  these 
rare  and  winning  traits  which  so  enriched  and 
ennobled  his  personal  character  they  will  never 
cease  to  be  a  spell  of  most  potent  and  pathetic 
power.  I  may  not  trust  myself  to  speak  of 
what  I  owe  to  him  whom  we  have  come  here  to 
mourn  and  to  honor.  I  may  not  venture  to  give 
the  rein  to  those  deepest  feelings  of  grateful  love 
and  veneration  which  are  stirred  in  me  by  the 
memory  of  that  pure  and  knightly  manhood. 
Words  are  too  poor  for  the  expression  of  emo- 
tions which  are  intertwined  with  the  deepest  and 
most  sacred  affection  ;  but  you  and  I,  —  brethren 
beloved  in  the  common  Master!  — you  and  I  may 
well  bless  God  for  such  a  life,  for  such  a  work,  for 
such  a  friend  !  Too  short  was  that  life  and  work, 
do  we  say?  Yes,  as  the  world  measures  life  and 
work;  but  oh,  how  round  and  rich  and  complete 
in  the  best  fruitage  of  Christian  graces,  of  noble 
service,  of  a  rare  and  royal  manhood  !  Smitten, 
sorrowful,  and  bereaved,  we  must  needs  own  our- 


MEMORIAL   ADDRESS.  75 

selves ;  but  happy  the  household,  happy  the  dio- 
cese, happy  the  State  and  the  nation,  that  have 
such  a  father  and  such  a  citizen  and  son !  To- 
night we  hang  his  portrait  —  that  kingly  image  of 
him  who  *'  from  his  shoulders  upward,"  in  every 
rarest  grace  and  noblest  quality,  was  loftier  and 
kinglier  than  his  fellows  —  high  upon  the  wall 
of  memory,  and  in  the  chamber  of  our  deepest 
reverence.  With  that  prophet  of  the  elder  time 
we  look  up,  as  the  form  of  our  friend  and  leader 
vanishes  from  our  view,  and  cry,  **  My  father,  my 
father !  the  chariots  of  Israel  and  the  horsemen 
thereof!  "  And  then,  translating  the  prayer  of  the 
lonely  Elisha  into  our  Christian  speech,  shall  we 
not  also  cry,  "  O  thou  Mighty  One,  who  wast  to 
this  thy  departed  servant  Leader  and  Lord,  let  a 
double  portion  of  his  spirit,  which  was  thy  Spirit, 
be  upon  these  his  children  and  thine !  " 

Note.  —  In  what  is  said  here  of  the  educational  work  of  the  Church, 
reference  is  had  rather  to  the  conditions  under  which  such  work  has  been 
undertaken  than  to  the  paramount  importance  of  that  work,  concerning 
which  there  is,  at  any  rate  in  the  mind  of  the  writer,  not  the  smallest 
doubt.  But  the  history  of  the  University  in  our  mother  country  may 
well  instruct  us  in  that  which  is  the  best  wisdom  in  our  own.  Keble  and 
Selwyn  colleges  have  wisely  been  planted,  not  apart  by  themselves,  as 
isolated  schools  of  Church  teaching  and  life,  but  close  to  great  centres 
of  education,  with  all  their  consequent  advantages  of  libraries,  lectures, 
and  the  stimulating  atmosphere  of  a  large  and  generous  intellectual  life. 
Our  Church  colleges  have  no  less  claim  upon  our  sympathy  and  support, 
because  in  their  beginnings  the  advantages  of  this  course  were  not  recog- 
nized. But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  wisdom  which  was  first  to  see  it  must 
needs  be  owned.  Churchmen  owe  it  to  good  work  always  done,  though 
not  always  perhaps  in  the  wisest  way,  to  "  strengthen  the  things  that  re- 
main." They  owe  it  no  less  to  work  which  yet  remains  to  be  done,  to  mix 
their  doing  of  it  with  a  frank  recognition  of  the  situation.  —  H.  C.  P. 


Select   ^cxmom. 

BY    SAMUEL   SMITH    HARRIS,   D.D,  LL.D. 


^ckct   pennons. 


SERMON   I. 

SHEPHERDIIOOD.^ 

He  that  entereth  in  by  the  door  is  the  shepherd  of  the  sheep.  — 
St.  John  x.  2. 

THE  simple  lesson  which  our  Lord  intended 
to  teach  in  this  familiar  passage  has  often 
been  strangely  mistaken.  The  minds  of  men  have 
been  so  fixed  upon  certain  ecclesiastical  conclu- 
sions which  have  been  commonly  derived  from  it, 
that  the  simpler  but  far  profounder  teaching  which 
the  Master  had  in  mind  to  give  has  been  over- 
looked. He  was  not  defending  the  formal  author- 
ity of  his  own  or  of  any  office.  He  was  not  dis- 
cussing the  regularity  or  lawfulness  of  his  own  or 
of  any  ministry.  He  was  not  pointing  out  the 
mode  of  entrance  into  shepherdhood,  but  he  was 
telling  how  the  function  of  all  true  shepherdhood 
must  be  discharged.     He  was  laying  down  the  rule 

1  Preached  in  St.  Paul's  Church,  Detroit,  Sunday  morning, 
Sept.  21,  1879;  being  the  first  sermon  delivered  by  Bishop  Harris 
after  his  consecration  as  Bishop  of  Michigan. 


80  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

of  good  conduct  and  right  service  in  all  true  lead- 
ership, —  a  rule  which  He  Himself  exemplified 
and  fulfilled,  and  which  all  must  obey  who  hope  in 
any  degree  to  be  worthy  leaders  of  men. 

Perhaps  a  brief  examination  of  the  context  will 
enable  us  to  apprehend  our  Lord's  meaning  a  lit- 
tle more  freshly.  The  term  "shepherd"  was  com- 
monly used  among  the  Jews  to  denote  the  ruler 
or  leader  of  the  people.  Such  leaders  the  Phari- 
sees claimed  to  be;  and  just  before  these  words 
were  uttered  they  had  asserted  their  leadership  in 
an  exceedingly  offensive  fashion.  Our  Lord  had 
opened  the  eyes  of  one  who  had  been  born  blind ; 
and  the  Pharisees,  in  attempting  to  persuade  him 
that  had  been  blind  to  deny  the  power  of  Jesus, 
had  haughtily  treated  him  as  an  altogether  inferior 
being.  When  he  replied,  they  reviled  him  for  pre- 
suming to  claim  any  sort  of  equality  with  them- 
selves. "  Thou  wast  altogether  born  in  sin,  and 
dost  thou  teach  us  ?  "  So,  when  they  were  un- 
able to  use  him  for  their  purpose,  they  cast  him 
out  of  the  synagogue  as  one  accursed.  Our  Lord 
beheld  all  this,  and  said  in  effect:  "  Do  ye  claim 
to  be  the  shepherds  of  this  people?  I  tell  you 
nay:  he  that  entereth  not  by  the  door  into  the 
sheepfold,  but  climbeth  up  some  other  way,  the 
same  is  a  thief  and  a  robber;  but  he  that  enter- 
eth in  by  the  door  is  the  shepherd  of  the  sheep." 
The  fault  which  He  denounced  in  them  was  that 
they  did  not  identify  themselves  in  work  and  sym- 
pathy with  the  people.  The  sheep  enter  in  by 
the  door  into  the  sheepfold.     The  true  shepherd 


SHEPHERDHOOD.  8 1 

enters  in  by  the  same  door  with  the  sheep.  The 
Pharisees  separated  themselves  from  the  people, 
climbing  up  some  other  way,  and  supposed  that 
they  were  asserting  and  exercising  their  shepherd- 
hood  by  their  exclusiveness.  But  Jesus  said,  No; 
the  true  shepherd  proves  his  shepherdhood,  and 
realizes  it  by  identifying  himself  with  his  flock, 
and  entering  in  by  the  same  lowly  door  with  them. 
**  He  that  entereth  in  by  the  door  is  the  shepherd 
of  the  sheep." 

It  is  perfectly  obvious,  then,  that  Jesus  was  not 
discussing  the  question  of  the  credentials  of  au- 
thority, or  of  the  formal  commission  of  shepherd- 
hood  ;  but  He  was  pointing  out  the  only  way  in 
which  shepherdhood  of  any  kind  can  discharge  its 
function  and  realize  its  power.  He  was  propound- 
ing a  lesson  which  it  behooves  all  men  to  ponder 
well  who  hope  to  influence  their  fellow-men  for 
good.  Rank,  office,  order,  culture,  property, — be 
the  authority,  the  privilege,  the  right  of  these 
what  they  may,  the  eternal  law  of  God,  as  exem- 
plified in  the  life  of  His  Son,  and  taught  in  His 
Holy  Word,  and  illustrated  in  human  history,  is 
this :  that  none  of  these,  no  matter  how  commis- 
sioned or  sent,  can  exercise  any  real  shepherdhood 
over  men  except  as  they  are  in  sympathy  with 
them.  This  is  true  in  Church  and  State :  of  the 
employers  of  labor ;  of  the  heads  of  households ; 
of  civil  rulers  and  political  leaders;  of  bishops, 
priests,  and  deacons,  —  the  power  to  lead  men  lies 
in  sympathizing  with  them  and  walking  in  the 
same  way  with  them.     *'  He  that  entereth  in  by 

6 


82  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

the  door  is  the  shepherd  of  the  sheep."  Saying 
this,  the  great  Master  spake  not  merely  as  a  mor- 
ahst  and  sage,  but  also  as  a  statesman.  He  pro- 
pounded a  new  principle  in  social  and  political 
economy  which  princes  and  diplomatists  have 
hardly  yet  grown  up  to  the  grandeur  of,  though 
the  vicissitudes  of  falling  thrones  and  changing 
dynasties  have  been  confirming  it  for  thousands 
of  years.  For  man  has  always  been  prone  to 
think  that  eminence  of  gifts  or  station  would  give 
him  power ;  that  pomp  or  wealth  or  place  would 
enable  him  to  exercise  dominion.  But  Jesus  ut- 
terly reversed  all  this  when  He  said,  *'  Whosoever 
will  be  great  among  you,  let  him  be  your  min- 
ister; and  whosoever  will  be  chief  among  you,  let 
him  be  your  servant:  even  as  the  Son  of  man 
came  not  to  be  ministered  unto  but  to  minister, 
and  to  give  His  life  a  ransom  for  many."  Saying 
this  He  did  not  repudiate  distinction  of  order,  but 
rather  pointed  out  the  eternal  purpose  for  which 
it  is  ordained.  He  did  not  renounce  authority, 
but  rather  showed  the  only  way  to  vindicate  and 
exercise  it.  For  He  said  in  another  place:  *' Ye 
call  me  Master  and  Lord :  and  ye  say  well ;  for 
so  I  am."  But  because  I  am  your  Lord  and  Mas- 
ter, I  am  among  you  as  one  that  serveth.  So 
here  He  taught  the  same  great  lesson.  The  man 
of  influence  is  the  man  of  sympathy;  the  man  of 
power  is  the  man  of  service.  The  shepherd  en- 
ters in  by  the  sheep's  door;  he  leads  them  in  and 
out  and  finds  pasture  for  them.  He  knows  them, 
and  calls  them  by  name.     They  know  his  voice, 


SHEPHERDHO  OD.  83 

and  win  come  when  he  calls  them.  He  that  walks 
with  the  sheep  is  the  shepherd  of  the  sheep. 

Let  us  take  the  term  '*  shepherd,"  then,  in  this 
its  broadest  signification.  Let  us  think  for  a  lit- 
tle while  of  shepherdhood  as  any  kind  of  worthy 
leadership  among  men.  Surely  he  that  aspires 
to  it  in  any  walk  of  life  entertains  a  noble  ambi- 
tion. Indeed,  to  have  and  to  exert  some  kind  of 
real  influence  over  men  is  the  only  ambition  that 
is  worthy  of  a  man.  Give  him  any  kind  of  power 
but  this,  clothe  him  with  any  other  authority,  and 
all  that  he  has  will  be,  without  this,  a  weariness 
and  a  degradation.  Let  the  widest  proprietorship 
be  assigned  to  him,  let  him  claim  the  cattle  on 
a  thousand  hills,  let  the  rivers  as  they  leap  from 
the  mountain  and  run  to  the  sea  not  escape  from 
his  broad  domains ;  yet  the  village  Hampden  who 
leads  his  rustic  tenantry  at  the  hustings,  or  the 
village  poet  who  writes  the  songs  which  the  peo- 
ple love  to  sing,  may  be  a  greater  and  more  kingly 
soul  than  he.  For  the  one  is  the  lord  of  acres, 
the  other  is  the  ruler  of  souls.  The  one  calls  the 
hills  and  the  fields  his  own,  but  the  other  moves 
and  controls  the  immortal  spirits  of  men.  To  do 
this  worthily  and  well  is  a  royal  calling.  To  rule 
men  is  grander  than  to  rule  the  stars  in  their 
courses ;  and  to  lead  men  is  grander  than  to  rule 
them.  To  lead  men  onward  and  upward,  —  this  is 
to  be  a  prince  indeed :  this  is  worthy  of  gentlemen 
and  sons  of  God. 

But  how  is  such  influence  to  be  attained?  How 
is   such    power   to   be   won?     To   this    the    mere 


84  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

economist  might  say,  "  Get  station  or  place ;  get 
official  authority  :  that  is  power."  But  the  answer 
is  obvious.  There  is  a  distinction  between  the 
formal  authority  to  lead  men  on  the  one  hand 
and  the  power  to  lead  them  on  the  other;  and 
the  form  of  authority,  to  be  effective,  must  be  ac- 
companied by  the  power.  United,  they  constitute 
God's  order  for  the  guidance  of  the  world :  dis- 
united, they  stand  as  confusion  on  the  one  hand, 
and  official  incompetency  on  the  other.  Organi- 
zation must  be  endowed  with  life  to  be  efficient, 
and  among  men  mere  office-holding  is  not  shep- 
herdhood,   mere  station   is   not  power. 

The  materialist  might  say,  "  Get  money:  that  is 
power."  But  I  answer.  No,  —  not  over  the  souls 
of  men.  It  may  command  their  hands  or  buy  the 
product  of  their  busy  brains ;  but  money,  no  mat- 
ter how  lavishly  or  how  judiciously  employed,  can- 
not control  the  movements  of  the  human  heart. 

Another  would  say,  "Get  knowledge:  that  is 
power."  I  answer,  No  :  it  may  be  power  over  the 
rivers  and  over  the  seas,  over  the  lightnings  and 
the  clouds ;  it  may  summon  the  spirits  of  the  air, 
like  tricksy  Ariels,  to  be  its  messengers,  and  use 
for  its  own  purpose  the  leap  of  the  cataract  and 
the  sweep  of  the  storm ;  but  something  more  than 
knowledge  is  required  to  rule  men.  It  has  no 
skill  to  touch  the  springs  of  human  action,  or  to 
sweep  the  trembling  chords  of  the  human  heart. 

And  so  you  may  enumerate  all  the  instrumental- 
ities by  means  of  which  man  has  sought  in  time 
past  or  still  seeks  to   rule,  and  as  you  tell  them 


SHEPHERDHOOD.  85 

off,  each  must  be  rejected  as  powerless  in  the 
kingdom  of  souls,  until  we  come  at  last  to  this 
great  truth,  which  Christ  uttered  as  the  secret  of 
the  power  of  all  true  leadership  and  shepherdhood. 
He  said.  Sympathy  with  men  is  power  over  men. 
He  that  loves  is  he  that  leads.  He  that  serves 
is  he  that  rules.  *'  He  that  entereth  in  by  the 
door  is  the  shepherd  of  the  sheep." 

Think  now  for  a  moment,  and  you  will  see  why 
it  must  be  so.  Man  is  free.  The  soul  is  free  in 
the  truest,  deepest  sense  of  the  word.  God  royally 
made  it  so,  and  even  He  cannot  control  it  by 
any  merely  external  force  or  power.  It  is  free  to 
think ;  it  is  free  to  will  and  choose ;  it  is  free  to 
love ;  and  no  mere  force  or  authority  from  with- 
out can  control  it  in  these  operations  in  which  its 
sovereign  selfhood  is  realized.  You  may  chain 
the  limbs  of  a  man,  —  you  may  coerce  his  actions 
or  even  his  words ;  but  how  can  you  get  into  com- 
munion with  the  soul,  and  rule  its  will  and  its  af- 
fections? There  is  only  one  way.  If  you  would 
influence  men  intimately,  profoundly,  really,  no 
matter  what  your  authority  or  station,  you  must 
enter  into  sympathy  with  them.  You  must  walk 
in  the  same  path  and  enter  in  by  the  same  door, 
or  you  can  never  be  the  shepherd  of  the  sheep. 
This  is  what  Saint  Paul  meant  when  he  sang  the 
praise  of  love.  Among  men  love  is  power. 
**  Though  I  speak  with  the  tongues  of  men  and  of 
angels,  .  .  .  and  though  I  have  the  gift  of  prophecy, 
and  understand  all  mysteries,  and  all  knowledge, 
and  though  I  have  all  faith,  so  that  I  could  re- 


86  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

move  mountains,  .  .  .  and  though  I  bestow  all  my 
goods  to  feed  the  poor,  and  though  I  give  my 
body  to  be  burned,  and  have  not  love^  it  profit- 
eth  me  nothing."  And  a  greater  than  Saint  Paul 
taught  the  same  lesson  and  confirmed  it  by  his 
own  Divine  experience.  The  Good  Shepherd 
proved  and  illustrated  His  own  Good  Shepherd- 
hood  by  sympathy  and  love.  It  was  by  no  flash 
of  splendor  or  miracle  of  external  power  that  He 
proved  His  Divine  leadership  over  the  hearts  of 
men ;  but  by  coming  to  walk  with  them,  to  toil 
and  hunger  and  suffer  with  them.  He  entered 
into  mortal  life  by  the  same  lowly  door  of  hu- 
man birth;  He  passed  through  it  by  the  same 
path  of  toil  and  daily  care;  He  made  His  exit 
from  it  through  the  same  portal  of  suffering 
and  death.  In  life  and  death  He  walked  with 
the  sheep.  Therefore  He  could  say,  "  I  am  the 
good  shepherd,  not  merely  because  I  am  commis- 
sioned and  sent  of  my  Father,  not  merely  because 
I  wield  the  power  of  omnipotence,"  but  "  I  am 
the  good  shepherd,"  He  said,  because  '*  I  know  my 
sheep  and  am  known  of  mine."  "  The  shepherd 
calleth  his  own  sheep  by  name  and  leadeth  them 
out.  And  when  he  putteth  forth  his  own  sheep, 
he  goeth  before  them,  and  the  sheep  follow  him, 
for  they  know  his  voice.  He  that  walketh  with 
the  sheep,  is  the  shepherd  of  the  sheep." 

The  applications  of  this  great  principle  are  mani- 
fold, and  extend  to  all  the  relations  of  life.  It  is 
the  principle,  in  the  first  place,  of  all  good  gov- 
ernment.    The    good   ruler   must  be   a  shepherd. 


SHEPHERDHOOD.  8/ 

identifying  himself,  not  in  principle  or  opinion 
necessarily,  but  in  sympathy  with  his  people. 
Hence  all  good  rulers,  whether  of  high  birth  or 
low  degree,  whether  kings  like  Victor  Emmanuel 
or  commoners  like  Washington  or  Lincoln,  have 
all  been  men  of  the  people.  In  precise  proportion 
to  the  greatness  and  reality  of  their  influence  they 
have  been  shepherds  every  one. 

So  long  as  such  rulers  are  content  to  be  shep- 
herds, walking  with  and  leading  their  people,  they 
retain  their  power;  but  the  moment  they  begin 
to  withdraw  into  privilege  and  prerogative  they 
begin  to  lose  it.  While  David  sat  daily  in  the 
gate  to  meet  the  people  and  right  their  wrongs, 
he  ruled  them,  and  they  gave  him  a  glad  obedi- 
ence. But  when  he  withdrew  into  the  exclusive- 
ness  of  prerogative,  the  traitor  Absalom  came  and 
stole  their  hearts  away.  So  long  as  David  relied 
on  his  shepherdhood,  he  reigned  as  a  king;  but 
when  he  forgot  his  shepherdhood  and  began  to 
rely  on  his  royalty,  he  lost  his  power,  and  came 
nigh  losing  his  crown. 

In  this  principle  is  to  be  found,  moreover,  the 
solution  of  the  great  social  question  of  the  day. 
The  antagonism  between  labor  and  capital  can  be 
avoided ;  the  rich  and  poor  can  be  reconciled ; 
intelligence  and  wealth  can  attain  their  rightful 
influence  in  the  State  and  in  society  when  intelli- 
gence and  wealth  enter  into  active  sympathy  with 
the  poor.  Let  the  rich  and  educated  regard  their 
wealth  and  intelligence  as  a  sacred  trust  to  be  used 
in  the  service   of  their  fellow-men ;    and  then   let 


88  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

them  identify  themselves  in  sympathy  with  the 
masses,  and  they  will  be  the  trusted  leaders  of  the 
masses.  Not  otherwise;  for  the  poor  are  just  like 
other  men.  They  are  going  to  follow  their  shep- 
herds^ —  those  who  walk  with  them  and  sympa- 
thize with  them.  And  until  the  rich  and  intelligent 
in  this  free  land  become  sufficiently  Christianized 
to  so  identify  themselves  with  the  poor,  tliey  are 
not  going  to  lead  them.  "  He  that  entereth  in  by 
the  door  is  the  shepherd  of  the  sheep." 

But  above  all,  this  principle  defines  the  mission 
of  the  Church  of  God.  Venerable  as  she  is  above 
all  the  institutions  of  time,  of  Divine  origin  and 
appointment,  clothed  with  authority  from  on  high, 
set  to  be  the  witness  and  keeper  of  the  truth,  and 
commissioned  to  transmit  it  to  the  remotest  gen- 
eration, we  who  know  and  love  her,  yield  to  her 
divine  authority  our  glad  obedience.  Yet  the 
Church  is  more  than  a  witness  and  keeper  of  the 
truth ;  she  is  more  than  a  teacher  sent  from  God ; 
she  is  more  than  a  divinely  appointed  polity  to 
be  perpetuated,  or  a  divinely  instituted  authority 
to  be  respected  and  enforced.  She  is  sent  to 
scatter  abroad  the  gifts  of  grace;  to  be  the  instru- 
mentality in  time  of  Him  who,  though  unseen,  is 
still  the  Good  Shepherd.  He  works  with  her 
hands,  He  speaks  with  her  voice,  and  it  is  still  the 
Shepherd's  voice,  calling  His  own  sheep  by  name, 
and  leading  them  to  the  green  pastures  and  beside 
the  still  waters.  Were  I  asked,  then,  what  is  the 
chief  manward  function  of  the  Church  of  God,  I 
would  say,  Shepherdhood  over  the  souls  of  men; 


SHEPHERDHOOD.  89 

shepherdhood  toward  all  whom  Christ  came  to 
seek  and  to  save;  shepherdhood  not  merely  to- 
ward those  which  are  safely  folded,  but  toward  the 
lost  and  scattered  sheep  which  stray  bewildered 
upon  the  dark  mountains ;  to  realize  on  earth  the 
will  and  the  prayer  of  Him  who  not  only  said,  **  I 
am  the  good  shepherd,"  but  who  also  said,  "  Other 
sheep  I  have,  which  are  not  of  this  fold ;  them  also 
must  I  bring,  and  they  shall  hear  my  voice ;  and 
there  shall  be  one  fold,  and  one  shepherd." 

But  above  all,  the  true  shepherd  must  be  a  man 
of  that  genuine  sensibility  of  soul  that  feels  all  that 
concerns  his  fellow-men ;  that  feels  their  sorrows, 
shares  their  joys,  instinctively  divines  their  difficul- 
ties, generously  shares  their  burdens.  This  is  the 
distinguishing  characteristic  of  all  great  Christian 
leaders,  and  in  this  is  the  hiding  of  their  power. 
Such  sympathy  cannot  be  simulated;  it  is  im- 
possible to  play  a  part  in  this.  A  man  must  have 
a  genuine  respect  and  a  genuine  affection  for  men 
as  men,  or  he  cannot  be  their  shepherd.  At  the 
remarkable  meeting  that  was  held  some  two  years 
ago  at  Westminster  Abbey  to  take  steps  for  erect- 
ing a  monument  to  the  late  Dean  Stanley,  it  was 
said  by  more  than  one  of  the  speakers  who  knew 
him  well,  that  the  secret  of  his  remarkable  power 
over  men  was  his  many-sided  sympathy.  He  was 
a  genuine  lover  of  his  kind.  He  loved  men  as 
men;  not  for  what  they  had,  nor  for  what  they 
thought,  nor  for  what  they  did ;  but  he  loved  them, 
rep:ardless  of  class  or  creed,  as  men.  It  was  a 
wondrous   and   precious   gift;    and   he   used   it  so 


90  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

that  when  he  died  there  were  three  continents  that 
mourned  him,  though  there  were  few  of  those  who 
mourned  him  that  altogether  agreed  with  him.  So 
of  the  great  dean  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  it 
was  not  his  learning,  nor  his  rank,  nor  his  riches, 
nor  his  presence,  that  made  him  a  great  shepherd- 
hearted  prophet,  for  such  he  undoubtedly  was; 
but  it  was  his  humble  walk  with  God,  and  his 
many-sided  sympathy  with  his  kind.  In  the  minds 
and  hearts  of  many  thousands  who  utterly  differed 
from  him,  this  redeemed  his  mistakes ;  and  he  is 
already  numbered  among  the  illustrious  abbots 
of  Westminster,  among  the  worthies  of  England, 
among  the  great  shepherd-prophets  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  race. 

You  will  pardon  me,  my  brethren,  if  I  venture 
to  say  in  this,  my  first  public  utterance  among 
you,  that  it  is  with  thoughts  like  these  that  I  have 
prayed  to  come  to  begin  my  ministry  here :  to  be 
in  some  humble  measure,  but  oh,  in  Christ's  deep 
and  lowly  sense,  a  servant  of  my  brethren ;  to  take 
heed  unto  the  flock  over  which  the  Holy  Ghost 
hath  made  me  overseer;  to  strive  to  know  the 
sheep  and  call  them  by  name ;  to  lead  them  forth, 
and  to  have  the  sheep  know  my  voice  and  come  at 
my  calling.  And  this  it  is  to  be  a  shepherd  in- 
deed; this  it  is  to  be  a  bishop  of  souls  in  the 
church  of  God,  —  not  to  be  ministered  unto,  but 
to  minister.  This  is  the  divine  rule  of  headship ; 
and  oh,  may  it  be  mine  as  I  go  in  and  out  among 
you! 

But  it  is  not  alone  of  myself  that  I  would  speak, 


SHEPHERDHOOD.  91 

or  even  chiefly  of  myself.  You  and  I  are  all  called, 
each  in  our  station  and  degree,  to  help  make  this 
dear  old  Church  of  ours,  which  God  hath  sent  to 
this  Western  land,  realize  her  high  vocation,  and 
be  a  shepherd  church  to  all  this  mighty  people, 
by  leading  in  every  good  word  and  work,  by  show- 
ing the  world  that  there  is  nothing  good  that  we 
have  not  a  sympathy  with,  by  doing  all  that  in  us 
lies  to  bring  them  back  to  the  old  path,  and  to 
lead  them  in  the  better  way  by  the  kindly  minis- 
tries of  gentleness  and  love ;  to  teach  an  alienated 
people  to  see  in  the  Church  itself  a  shepherd's 
care,  and  to  hear  a  shepherd's  voice.  To  do  this 
is  to  be  true  teachers  in  the  Church  of  God.  And 
you  and  I  are  called  to  be  shepherds  as  individ- 
uals in  our  places  and  in  our  separate  vocations. 
Every  father  and  every  mother,  every  employer 
of  labor,  and  every  head  of  a  household  ought  to 
remember  this.  It  is  a  great  privilege,  that  of 
being  the  guides  and  leaders  of  men,  —  in  this  way 
to  be  shepherds  in  the  Israel  of  God. 

One  summer  morning  a  traveller  was  standing 
upon  the  side  of  a  mighty  mountain.  A  beautiful 
lake  spread  out  before  him,  casting  back  like  a 
mirror  the  flood  of  golden  sunlight  that  fell  upon 
it,  while  above  his  head  the  morning  mists  were 
weaving  a  fantastic  coronet  to  crown  the  king  of 
the  mountains.  As  he  stood  there  drinking  in  the 
beauty,  he  saw  a  shepherd  of  that  country  pass 
along  the  pathway  by  a  brook,  leading  a  flock  of 
sheep  to  a  higher  and  greener  pasture  that  was 
above   on   the   side   of  the    mountain.     The   trav- 


92  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

eller  called  to  the  shepherd  and  said,  "Give  me 
your  hand,  and  come  up  over  the  rock,  for  you  will 
get  wet  as  you  walk  along  the  pathway!"  But  he 
said,  *' Na,  na;  the  sheep  canna  climb  the  rock, 
and  they  wadna  stan'  still  gin  I  clum  up  there, 
I  mun  gang  before  the  sheep,  gin  I  wad  lead 
them  !  "  And  the  traveller  said :  "  This,  then, 
is  shepherdhood,  —  shepherdhood  like  that  of 
Moses,  or  Joshua,  or  Paul,  or  Selwyn,  or  Cole- 
ridge Patterson,  or  like  the  shepherdhood  of 
our  own  beloved  leaders  of  the  flock  who  have 
entered  into  their  rest.  This  is  true  shepherd- 
hood,—  not  to  climb  up  some  other  way,  but  to 
walk  before  the  sheep."  Oh,  brethren,  may  such 
a  shepherdhood  be  yours  and  mine,  and  so  may 
it  be  our  privilege  to  keep  around  us  and  about 
us  all  those  whom  we  love !  And  as  our  spring- 
time flows  into  summer,  and  our  summer  begins 
to  languish  into  autumn  and  winter,  may  it  be 
our  blessed  privilege  to  lead  them  higher  and 
higher  up  the  mountain-side  where  the  greener 
pastures  are,  till  at  last  we  shall  come  to  see  the 
gloriously  fashioned  door  of  the  heavenly  fold 
swinging  open  to  admit  us  and  those  we  bring 
with  us,  its  golden  hinges  turning  and  gleaming 
in  the  light  of  the  everlasting  Sun,  what  time  we 
begin  to  catch,  as  the  sounds  of  this  world  die 
away,  the  sweeter  voices  trained  to  know  the  Good 
Shepherd's  voice,  and  He  shall  come  forth  to  meet 
us  and  lead  us  into  the  green  pastures  and  beside 
the  still  waters,  to  bask  forever  and  forever  be- 
neath the  smile  of  God. 


SERMON   II. 

THE   DIGNITY   OF   MAN.^ 

And  God  said,  Let  us  make  man  in  our  image,  after  our  like- 
ness :  and  let  them  have  dominion  over  the  fish  of  the  sea,  and 
over  the  fowl  of  the  air,  and  over  the  cattle,  and  over  all  the  earth, 
and  over  every  creeping  thing  that  creepeth  upon  the  earth.  So 
God  created  man  in  his  own  image,  in  the  image  of  God  created  he 
him.  —  Gen.  i.  26,  27. 

A  GREAT  poet  has  profoundly  said  that  "  the 
proper  study  of  mankind  is  man."  It  is  a 
truth  which  all  generations  of  thinking  men  have 
need  to  recognize  and  ponder  ;  for  a  right  estimate 
of  what  man  is  and  may  become  lies  at  the  founda- 
tion of  all  social  and  political  philosophy.  I  count 
it  one  of  the  peculiar  misfortunes  of  our  day  and 
time  that  this  noble  study  has  been  so  much  neg- 
lected.    For  more  than  a  generation  the  tendency 

1  Preached  in  St.  Paul's  Church,  Detroit,  on  the  morning  of 
the  first  Sunday  in  Advent,  1884.  Preached  also  in  St.  Thomas 
Church,  Winchester,  England,  on  Sunday  morning,  July  15,  1888. 
This  was  the  last  sermon  delivered  by  Bishop  Harris,  and  the  one 
during  which  he  had  that  momentary  unconsciousness  which  was 
the  beginning  of  his  last  illness.  It  was  described  in  a  letter  from 
the  Rev.  Arthur  H.  Sole,  as  follows :  "  He  preached  us  a  noble 
sermon,  *  Let  us  make  man  in  our  image,'  etc.,  and  he  dwelt  upon 
man's  infinite  possibilities  of  good,  and  his  potential  power.  When 
he  had  preached  for  about  fifteen  minutes,  he  suddenly  became 
silent,  and  for  a  moment  I  felt  most  anxious.  Then  he  braced 
himself  with  an  effort,  and  finished  his  sermon  entirely  without 
manuscript,  in  a  manner  that  touched  and  helped  us  all." 


94  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN, 

of  human  thought  has  been  in  a  different  direction. 
The  wonderful  development  of  a  material  civiliza- 
tion has  engrossed  the  attention  and  absorbed  the 
energy  of  the  race.  In  the  midst  of  steam-enginery, 
human  agency  has  seemed  to  be  of  less  account. 
The  machine  has  seemed  in  large  degree  to  sup- 
plant the  man.  The  study  of  things  and  not  of 
ideas,  of  relations  and  not  of  principles,  of  forms 
and  combinations  and  not  of  the  power  which  sus- 
tains them,  have  made  the  age  in  which  we  live, 
with  all  its  splendor  of  material  achievement,  a 
superficial  age,  in  which  the  true  dignity  of  the 
soul  and  the  true  sanctities  of  human  life  are  often 
obscured  and  forgotten.  To  this  is  due  in  large 
part  the  notorious  decay  of  statesmanship;  the 
shallowness  of  our  contemporary  thinking ;  the  em- 
piricism which  is  the  reproach  of  our  professions; 
the  desecration  of  home  and  of  marriage ;  the 
alienation  of  classes  and  the  disregard  of  human 
rights  and  human  duties,  which  are  likely  at  any 
time  to  lead  to  conflict  and  disaster.  For  this,  the 
only  remedy  is  to  call  men  back  to  a  sense  of  what 
their  true  interests  are  ;  and  the  first  step  in  this 
process  must  be  a  return  to  a  true  estimate  of 
man's  dignity  and  destiny.  For  man  is  the  lord 
of  all  beneath  him,  and  the  witness  for  all  above 
him,  designed  to  be  earth's  sovereign  and  God's 
likeness ;  and  unless  we  know  him  in  some  real 
sense  we  cannot  understand  the  world  or  time,  to 
say  nothing  of  eternity  and  God. 

But  beyond  all  question  a  right  estimate  of  what 
man  is  and  may  become  must  lie  at  the  foundation 


THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN.  95 

of  all  religious  philosophy.  It  is  therefore  alto- 
gether in  the  line  of  my  duty  as  chief  pastor  of 
souls,  that  I  ask  you  to  begin  with  me  this  morn- 
ing a  brief  study  of  man's  dignity  and  destiny. 
From  this  we  will  pass,  on  next  Sunday  morning, 
to  a  study  of  the  indignity  and  enormity  of  that 
sin  which  so  dishonors  and  debases  man's  regal 
and  aspiring  nature;  and  then  to  the  wonder  and 
the  power  of  redemption,  through  which  this  foul 
dishonor  is  done  away;  and  finally  to  the  joy  of 
that  eternal  life  which  beginning  here  shall  last 
forever.  Our  subject  this  morning,  then,  shall  be 
man's  dignity  and  destiny;  and  for  a  text  I  turn 
to  this  venerable  record  of  human  history  which 
tells  us  of  man's  beginning,  by  what  power  and  in 
what  image  he  was  fashioned,  and  into  what  like- 
ness he  was  designed  to  grow.  "  And  God  said, 
Let  us  make  man  in  our  image,  after  our  like- 
ness. ...  So  God  created  man  in  his  own  image, 
in  the  image  of  God  created  he  him." 

It  is  no  part  of  my  present  purpose  to  discuss 
the  manner  of  man's  creation.  As  Christians  we 
need  not  be  at  all  disturbed  if  in  the  course  of  sci- 
entific investigation  it  should  be  established  that 
man  as  a  physical  being  is  the  result  of  a  long 
process  of  evolution,  —  the  same  process  through 
which  all  the  rest  of  the  physical  universe  has  been 
builded.  The  grandeur  of  God's  creative  act  would 
not  be  obscured,  but  only  enhanced,  were  we  to- 
day to  regard  it  not  as  having  been  exercised  in 
a  moment  or  by  a  single  fiat,  but  as  extending 
through  ages  of  development,  beginning  with  pri- 


g6  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

mordial  forces  and  monad  forms,  and  ending  with 
man  as  the  crown  and  consummate  flower  of  crea- 
tion. The  theory  of  evolution  is  not  yet  proved. 
There  are  many  scientific  philosophers  among  the 
very  greatest,  like  Professor  Agassiz,  who  believe 
that  it  never  can  be  established.  But  even  if  it 
should  be  established  as  the  true  account  of  man's 
origin  as  a  physical  being,  it  will  not  be  in  conflict 
with  religious  truth,  or  with  the  true  meaning  of 
this  Divine  Word.  For  man  is  more  than  a  phys- 
ical being.  No  matter  from  what  standpoint  we 
regard  him,  we  find  in  him  what  no  physical  phi- 
losophy can  pretend  to  account  for.  In  him  we 
find  certain  characteristic  faculties  and  powers 
which  mark  him  as  wholly  distinct  from  all  other 
creatures  on  this  earth  of  ours ;  and  these  charac- 
teristic faculties  and  powers  are  the  differentia  of 
man  as  an  intellectual,  moral,  and  spiritual  being. 
In  the  great  transaction  of  man's  creation,  then, 
whether  it  was  evolutionary  or  instantaneous,  there 
was  an  epoch-marking  moment  when  a  new  factor 
appeared ;  when  a  new  and  supernal  entity  made 
its  august  appearance  as  a  visitant  from  another 
world  ;  when  a  power  from  on  high  for  the  first 
time  touched  the  organic  and  material,  and  took 
up  its  abode  in  this  lower  world,  —  and  that  was  the 
supreme  moment  when  God  breathed  the  breath 
of  life  into  man's  nostrils,  and  he  became  a  living 
soul.  And  when  we  study  that  soul  we  find  that 
it  bears  the  impress  of  its  divine  origin ;  that  it 
was  fashioned  not  according  to  any  earthly  pat- 
tern, but  after  a  pattern  in  the  heavens.     We  read 


THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAiV  97 

without  wonder  that  it  was  not  in  the  image  of  any 
brutish  existence  that  man's  soul  was  fashioned, 
but  that  it  was  fashioned  in  the  image  of  God. 
And  this  was  done  not  without  dehberate  counsel 
and  purpose.  We  are  struck,  in  reading  this  an- 
cient narrative,  with  the  difference  between  this 
act  and  all  that  preceded  it.  All  former  things 
seem  to  have  arisen,  as  it  were,  in  accordance  with 
some  easy  and  natural  plan,  —  the  light,  the  firma- 
ment, the  fishes,  the  cattle,  the  birds.  But  when 
it  came  to  the  creation  of  man,  the  council  of  the 
eternal  Godhead  was  solemnly  convoked.  The 
sublime  purpose  of  reproducing  here  on  earth  a 
being  in  the  image  of  the  invisible  God  was  medi- 
tated and  announced.  After  the  pattern  of  God- 
head the  soul's  manhood  was  fashioned  and  made, 
and  the  great  fact  is  here  recorded.  "  So  God 
created  man  in  his  own  image ;  in  the  image  of 
God  created  he  him." 

Therefore  it  is  that  the  soul  is  the  man  ;  in  man's 
mental,  moral,  and  spiritual  nature  his  true  man- 
hood lies.  In  this  world  man  has  a  body,  but  he 
is  a  soul.  And  the  soul  is  the  real  man.  Un- 
doubtedly man's  physical  nature  is  useful  and 
necessary  here.  With  all  its  frailties  it  constitutes 
a  splendid  equipment  for  the  human  spirit.  All 
creation  moved  by  steady  gradation  upward  to 
man  as  a  physical  being,  and  in  him  it  reached  its 
summit  and  consummation.  It  is  one  of  the  latest 
and  most  authoritative  announcements  of  the  evo- 
lutionary school  of  scientific  thinkers,  that  man  is 
not  only  the  loftiest  and  noblest  product  of  evolu- 

7 


98  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

tion,  but  that  he  is  and  shall  be  the  last;  that  in 
him  the  principle  of  natural  selection  has  given 
place  to  another  law  which  has  forever  closed  the 
ascending  series  of  species,  and  that  there  can  be, 
therefore,  no  nobler  creation  on  this  earth  of  ours 
than  man.  And  when  we  consider  man  merely  as 
a  physical  being,  how  matchless  he  is !  Erect  and 
free,  his  very  attitude  is  that  of  lordship.  What  a 
piece  of  work  he  is !  in  form  and  moving  how  ex- 
press and  admirable,  —  a  front  like  Jove  himself; 
an  eye  like  Mars  to  threaten  and  command  !  Who 
shall  say  or  sing  the  marvels  of  the  ''  human  face 
divine"?  who  shall  imitate  the  wonders  of  the  hu- 
man hand?  In  all  the  boundless  range  of  art  its 
skill  gives  form  to  human  thought  and  makes  it 
glow  on  canvas  or  breathe  in  marble.  It  wields  the 
flashing  sword  in  battle,  and  soothes  the  fevered 
brow  of  pain  ;  it  fells  the  giant  oak,  and  by  its  clasp 
cements  the  bond  of  friendship ;  it  is  the  instru- 
ment of  power,  of  love,  and  of  blessing.  And  then 
the  voice  of  man,  — the  organs  of  speech,  the  power 
to  make  articulate  sounds  and  fashion  them  into 
words,  those  airy  messengers  which  tell  the  secret 
thoughts  of  soul  to  soul,  which  make  up  that  mar- 
vellous thing  called  language.  And  yet  even  these 
powers  belong  to  the  physical  man  only  because 
he  has  a  soul  within  him.  They  are  simply  the 
agents  by  means  of  which  the  soul  expresses  itself 
and  holds  communion  with  the  outer  world. 

Man's  true  nature,  then,  — that  which  constitutes 
his  true  manhood,  —  is  mental,  moral,  spiritual; 
that  which  belongs  to  him  in  distinction  from  all 


THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN.  99 

Other  beings  known  to  him  here;  which  makes 
him  what  he  is,  —  a  man.  As  such  he  is  able  to 
apprehend  the  environment  by  which  he  is  con- 
ditioned, and  to  look  through  it  to  a  higher  state 
of  existence.  As  such  he  is  able  to  will  what  is 
right  and  to  choose  what  is  good.  As  such  he  is 
able  to  love  the  ideal  and  so  to  rise  toward  it.  In  a 
word,  his  manhood  is  his  personality,  his  individual- 
ity as  an  intellectual,  moral,  and  spiritual  being. 

It  is  a  stupendous  fact  that  every  soul  is  unique 
in  its  inmost  personality.  Each  differs  from  every 
other,  stands  In  its  own  lot,  bears  its  own  burden, 
goes  to  its  own  place  alone.  The  law  of  genera- 
tion, transmission,  inheritance,  largely  shapes  and 
determines  man's  physical  nature;  but  the  soul's 
individuality  is  original  and  underived.  The  reason 
is  that  every  soul  is  a  fresh  creation.  The  body 
is  begotten  through  generation  :  the  soul  of  each 
child  that  is  born  comes  direct  from  the  creative 
power  of  God.  I  cannot  take  time  now  to  discuss 
the  question  between  Traducianists,  who  assert  that 
the  souls,  like  the  bodies  of  all  men,  are  derived 
through  generation  from  Adam,  and  the  Creation- 
ists, who  assert  that  while  the  physical  nature  is  so 
derived,  each  soul  is  a  separate  creation.  Suffice 
it  that  the  last  view  is  the  only  view  that  is  tenable. 
Beyond  all  question  the  new-created  soul  Is  condi- 
tioned by  its  environment.  Enshrined  In  a  body 
that  inherits  evil,  the  soul  Is  conditioned  by  that 
evil;  hence  we  have  original  sin.  Inherited  ten- 
dency, transmitted  bias,  and  other  peculiarities  of 
temperament  and  temper.     But  the  fact  remains 


100  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

that  each  soul,  however  conditioned  by  its  body,  is 
the  result  of  a  fresh  creative  act,  and  comes  directly 
from  the  power  and  love  of  God.  With  Words- 
worth, therefore,  we  can  say, — 

"  Our  birth  is  but  a  sleep  and  a  forgetting  : 
The  soul  that  rises  with  us,  our  life's  star, 
Hath  had  elsewhere  its  setting, 
And  Cometh  from  afar. 
Not  in  entire  forgetfulness, 
And  not  in  utter  nakedness, 
But  trailing  clouds  of  glory,  do  we  come 
From  God,  who  is  our  home." 

Therefore  it  is  that  in  spite  of  all  the  associations 
that  entangle  him  here,  man  is  the  master  of  his 
own  destiny.  No  matter  how  squalid  the  environ- 
ment of  his  birth,  nor  how  low  and  ignoble  the  lot 
to  which  he  is  born ;  no  matter  how  unknown  or 
unworthy  the  name  which  he  inherits,  or  what 
swarthy  hues  barbaric  suns  may  have  burned  into 
the  cheeks  of  his  ancestors,  the  soul  of  every  man 
is  a  new  creation  by  God,  and  ought  to  be  free  and 
equal  among  his  fellow-men.  It  is  in  this  fact  that 
I  read  the  charter  of  human  rights  and  human 
freedom.  In  this  I  discern  the  falseness  of  all  class 
distinctions  and  other  barriers  that  would  separate 
man  from  man.  In  the  kingdom  of  souls  there  are 
no  inherited  degrees  of  honor  or  shame.  Each  is 
free,  and  fully  entitled  to  the  place  which  he  can 
honestly  win  and  honorably  hold.  Therefore  man 
is  a  responsible  being.  He  comes  into  the  world  a 
sovereign  soul,  with  power  to  determine  the  quality 
of  his  own  life  and  action.     And  this  responsibility 


THE   DIGNITY  OF  MAN.  \Q\ 

he  cannot  abdicate  any  more  than  he  can  obHterate 
his  own  individuality.  He  cannot  ease  himself  of 
it  or  share  it  with  another. 

There  is  infinite  pathos  and  pitifulness  in  the 
thought  of  man's  lonely  individuality,  but  there  is 
grandeur  too.  In  the  solitude  of  its  individuality 
each  soul  is  a  crowned  and  sceptred  king.  Day  by 
day  and  hour  by  hour  he  must  determine  the  awful 
issues  of  right  and  wrong,  of  life  and  death,  as  they 
arise,  and  no  man  and  no  angel  can  interpose  be- 
tween him  and  his  dread  responsibility.  In  a  deep 
and  real  sense  he  must  think  and  choose  and  live 
out  his  life  alone,  even  as  he  must  go  alone  through 
the  dark  valley  and  shadow  of  death  to  that  judg- 
ment which  shall  disclose  what  manner  of  man  he 
has  made  himself  to  be  in  the  sovereign  freedom 
of  his  soul. 

In  this  sovereign  individuality,  then,  man  is  en- 
dowed with  those  original  powers  which  he  must 
exercise,  for  the  right  exercise  of  which  he  is  re- 
sponsible, and  in  the  right  exercise  of  which  his  true 
dignity  lies,  —  the  power  to  know,  the  power  to  will 
or  choose,  and  the  power  to  love.  And  first,  of  the 
power  to  know.  It  is  a  great  truth  that  in  man  the 
world  first  became  conscious  of  itself.  No  being 
lower  than  man  is  able  to  take  cognizance  of  the 
world's  meaning,  to  drink  in  its  beauty,  to  appro- 
priate its  good.  Man  only  is  able,  through  obser- 
vation and  reflection,  to  understand  the  laws  of 
nature  and  the  sequence  of  history.  He  only  can 
discern  and  appropriate  creation's  power  and  joy, 
—  the  mountain's  grandeur,  the  landscape's  beauty 


102  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN, 

the  majesty  of  night,  the  glory  of  day.     For  him 
the  aurora  spreads  its  fitful  light  and  the  rainbow 
lifts  its  lovely  form ;   for  him  the  morning  blushes 
in  gladness  over  the  eastern    mountains,  and    the 
day  departs  with  splendor  through  the  portals  of 
the  western  sky.     For  him  the  flowers  bloom,  and 
all  the  beautiful  things  of  earth,  —  not  for  the  beasts 
which  see  and  heed  them  not,  but  for  man,  for  the 
angels,  and  for  God.      Fast  as  his  knowledge  ex- 
pands his  power  grows.     He  makes  the  rivers  and 
the  seas  his  highways,  the  lightnings  his  messen- 
gers, the  winds  and  the   currents  and  all  Nature's 
forces  his  servants,  because  he  alone  has  the  power 
to   understand   and   therefore    to   use   them.      Not 
only   so,   but  from  them  he  is  able   to  reason   to 
higher  things, — to  look  into  the  mirror  of  his  own 
soul,  to  read  the  majestic  secrets  that  are  reflected 
there ;   and  so,  being  conscious  of  the  world  and  of 
himself,   to   become  conscious  of  God.      'T  is  the 
power  to  know,  which  is  the  signature  of  divinity 
in  the  soul  of  man.     The  quest  for  knowledge  is  a 
divine  quest,  the  soul  that  engages  in  it  is   exer- 
cising one  of  the  royal  prerogatives  of  its  nature, 
and  all  true  seekers   after  truth  are   seekers  after 
God. 

Next,  man  has  the  power  to  will,  to  choose  freely 
between  good  and  evil.  Perhaps  of  all  his  powers 
this  is  the  most  characteristic  of  him  as  a  man,  for 
the  brute  has  no  such  power.  The  brute  is  under 
the  absolute  control  of  instinct.  When  an  object 
of  fear  or  desire  is  placed  before  a  brute,  it  in- 
stinctively seizes  it  or  flies  from  it;  but  man  has 


THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN.  103 

a  peculiar  power  of  determining  his  own  actions 
for  himself,  and  of  choosing  freely  between  right 
and  wrong.  Passion  may  say  it  is  desirable  or  un- 
desirable, appetite  may  say  it  is  fair  or  repulsive, 
but  conscience  whispers  it  is  right  or  wrong,  and 
man  has  power  to  heed  conscience  in  defiance  of 
passion  and  appetite;  to  say,  "I'll  do  right  at 
whatever  cost;  "  to  say,  •'  I  '11  do  this  thing,  not  be- 
cause of  fear  or  desire,  but  because  it  is  right,  and 
I  '11  refuse  to  do  that  thing  because  it  is  wrong." 
The  power  to  do  this  belongs  of  right  to  every 
soul.  No  squalid  surroundings  at  birth  have  ever 
been  able  to  banish  it,  no  inherited  languor  or  taint 
in  the  blood  has  ever  been  able  to  steal  it  away. 
The  man  himself  may  sin  it  away;  but  until  it  is 
forfeited  by  his  own  mad  act  it  belongs  to  every 
soul.  And  this  it  is  which  makes  the  soul  of  man 
so  great;  which  makes  man  greater  than  all  the 
universe  besides,  for  all  things  else  are  in  bond- 
age to  necessary  law.  The  wandering  comet  is 
held  in  the  firm  leash  of  law,  as  is  also  the  wild 
hurricane  that  sweeps  across  continents  and  careers 
over  foaming  seas.  The  iron  hand  of  necessity 
hurls  the  cataract  and  paints  the  lily  and  shakes 
the  aspen  in  the  breeze.  In  all  the  world  there  is 
only  one  thing  that  is  free,  and  that  is  the  soul  of 
man.  No  external  force  or  power,  no  inherited  ten- 
dency or  bias,  can  coerce  his  thought,  his  choice, 
his  affection.  Made  in  God's  image,  he  alone  can 
wield  this  sovereign,  this  godlike  power,  and  act 
not  from  instinct,  or  caprice,  or  impulse,  or  pas- 
sion, or  any  kind  of  necessity,  but  freely  do  the 


104  ^-^^  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

right  because  it  is  right.  This  is  the  characteristic 
power  and  glory  of  a  man. 

Finally,  another  characteristic  of  the  human  soul 
is  the  power  to  love  the  ideal;  this  too  is  part  of 
the  equipment  of  a  sovereign  nature.  Not  passion, 
or  desire,  or  longing,  or  any  sickly  sentimentalism, 
but  the  outgoing  of  man's  affection  from  himself 
toward  an  ideal  beauty  or  grace,  in  a  generous, 
noble,  unselfish  desire  to  honor  and  bless  that 
ideal, — this  is  human  love.  It  is  the  inspiration 
of  all  noble  endeavor,  the  principle  of  all  aspira- 
tion, the  spirit  of  all  worship.  This  power,  strong- 
est in  the  strong,  noblest  in  the  noble,  has  been  the 
secret  of  all  real  advancement  among  men, — the 
power  to  love  and  so  to  approach  the  ideal  beauty, 
goodness,  grace ;  in  a  word,  the  power  to  love  God. 
Time  fails  me  to  speak  of  it  to-day  as  I  would. 
Let  it  suffice  now  to  say  that  this  is  pre-eminently 
man's  spiritual  faculty.  Blindly,  fitfully,  it  often 
gropes  and  even  grovels  here,  wasting  its  wealth 
of  tenderness  often  on  objects  most  umvorthy ;  but 
its  highest  earthly  exercise  is  Christian  worship, 
its  loftiest  fruition  will  be  the  beatific  vision  when 
man  shall  see  the  King  in  His  beauty,  and  behold 
the  land  that  is  very  far  off. 

Can  you  not  now  divine  for  yourselves  the 
great  lesson  to  which  our  thought  has  conducted 
us?  Man's  true  dignity  lies  in  the  right  use  of 
these  noble  faculties  which  constitute  the  equip- 
ment of  his  nature.  I  know  indeed  that  this  re- 
gal nature  of  his  is  fallen.  On  Sunday  next  I  am 
to  speak  of  the  indignity  wrought  upon  man  and 


THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN.  105 

within  him  by  sin.  But  even  in  his  fallen  state, 
all  man's  grandeur  lies  in  what  he  is  and  may- 
become.  And  if  to  the  idea  of  dignity  we  add 
the  idea  of  worth,  then  he  who  has  most  nobly 
used  these  regal  faculties  of  his  soul  is  the  man 
of  most  dignity  and  most  worth.  And  the  noblest 
use  of  these  faculties  is  that  which  directs  them  to 
what  is  above  man,  not  to  what  is  beneath  him ; 
to  what  pertains  to  his  soul's  everlasting  interest, 
and  not  the  perishable  interests  of  time  and  sense. 
To  know  the  Truth,  to  choose  the  Right,  to  love 
the  Infinite  Good,  —  this  is  man's  true  vocation. 
I  know  that  there  are  interests  that  belong  to 
man's  earthly  estate.  It  is  part  of  his  high  call- 
ing to  subdue  the  world  and  exercise  dominion 
over  it,  and  this  he  can  do  only  by  the  labor  of 
business,  the  travail  of  thought,  the  toil  of  enter- 
prise and  discovery.  The  man  who  fails  to  do  his 
share  toward  the  attainment  or  the  rectification 
of  this  dominion,  having  no  adequate  disability  to 
excuse  him,  is  a  laggard  or  a  coward  in  life's  battle. 
But  let  not  the  man  who  succeeds  in  winning  the 
world  make  the  fatal  mistake  of  supposing  that 
this  is  all.  Not  earth  only,  but  heaven  also,  is  to 
be  won.  And  in  the  winning  of  earthly  success 
the  sole  value  of  all  his  enterprise  and  toil  to  his 
undying  soul  is  not  what  he  gets  to  have,  but  what 
he  gets  to  be.  The  supreme  question  is,  With  all 
my  gain  am  I  gaining  wisdom,  and  with  all  my 
getting  am  I  getting  understanding?  "  For  the 
merchandise  of  it  is  better  than  the  merchandise 
of  silver,  and   the  gain   thereof  than  fine   gold." 


I06  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

And  oh,  if  men  could  only  understand  this,  how 
much  easier  would  it  be  to  bear  what  mea^call 
earthly  misfortune  or  earthly  failure !  How  evi- 
dent it  is  that  these  when  honestly  encountered 
and  bravely  borne  are  the  choicest  conditions  for 
winning  the  true  success  of  the  soul,"  the  true 
grace  of  manhood,  which  is  likeness  to  God  ! 

In  a  vision  once  I  seemed  to  know  a  proud 
people  who  dwelt  in  a  goodly  land^  Bright  skies 
bent  above  it,  summer  seas  breathed  upon  it,  and 
careless  plenty  abounded  in  the  homes  of  "  fair 
women  and  brave  men."  And  I  seemed  to  see 
a  cloud  of  war  arise  and  hang  like  a  meteor  upon 
the  declivities  of  the  mountains.  Then  the  storm 
broke  and  surged  over  that  fair  land.  Not  a  home 
but  was  bereaved,  not  a  woman  in  all  its  congrega- 
tions but  was  draped  in  mourning.  Desolation 
stalked  through  all  its  borders.  And  then  after 
years  of  untold  anguish  came  utter  defeat,  utter 
failure,  utter  poverty,  utter  ruin.  The  years  passed 
on,  —  years  of  such  humiliation  and  suffering  as 
we  in  our  waking  moments  can  hardly  understand. 
And  then  the  fruits,  the  peaceable  fruits  of  those 
years  of  grievous  chastening  seemed  to  appear, — 
such  grace  and  tenderness  and  sweet  humility, 
such  piety  in  young  and  old,  as  never  existed  in 
the  old  days  of  that  people's  prosperity,  and  such 
as  shall,  if  not  lost  through  sin  and  folly,  make  the 
homes  of  that  people  a  praise  through  all  the 
earth.  Which  vision  I  take  to  be  an  allegory 
wherein  to  read  the  great  lesson  that  it  is  not  in 
what  he  has,  nor  in  what  he  boasts,  but  in  what  he 


THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN.  10/ 

is,  that  man's  true  worth  is  to  be  found ;  and  even 
mi&%tune  and  disaster  and  failure  are  transformed 
into  blessing  and  success,  if  through  them  the  soul 
is  humbled  and  strengthened  and  more  conformed 
to  the  likeness  of  God.  Surely  it  is  hard  enough 
to  compaslthis  in  the  midst  of  earthly  chastening; 
but  to  grow  more  and  more  unworldly  in  the  midst 
of  worldly  prosperity,  —  Jiic  labor,  hoc  opus  est. 
But  whether  in  wealth  or  adversity,  God's  grace 
is  freely  offered  to  us,  redeeming  Love  has  opened 
the  way  for  us,  atoning  mercy  stretches  down  a 
Saviour's  hand  to  help  us. 

Nay,  the  Spirit  of  God  is  now  freely  offered  to 
help  our  infirmities,  to  restore  the  Divine  image 
in  our  souls,  to  guide  us  into  all  truth,  to  enable 
us  to  choose  the  right,  to  love  the  good,  and  so  to 
rise  to  a  likeness  to  God. 


SERMON   III. 

THE   INDIGNITY   OF   SIN.^ 

But  he  that  sinneth  against  me  wrongeth  his  own  soul  :  all  they 
that  hate  me  love  death.  —  Prov.  viii.  36. 

IN  one  of  the  most  remarkable  passages  in  epic 
literature  the  poet  Milton  describes  the  meet- 
ing of  Satan,  Sin,  and  Death  at  the  gate  of  hell. 
Of  Sin  and  Death  he  says :  — 

"  Before  the  gates  there  sat 
On  either  side  a  formidable  shape ; 
The  one  seemed  woman  to  the  waist,  and  fair ; 
But  ended  foul  in  many  a  scaly  fold 
Voluminous  and  vast ;  a  serpent  armed 
With  mortal  sting :    About  her  middle  round 
A  cry  of  hell-hounds  never  ceasing  barked 
With  wide  Cerberean  mouths  full  loud,  and  rung 
A  hideous  peal ;  .  .  . 

The  other  shape, 
If  shape  it  might  be  called  that  shape  had  none 
Distinguishable  in  member,  joint,  or  limb ; 
Or  substance  might  be  called  that  shadow  seemed, 
For  each  seemed  either ;  black  it  stood  as  night, 
Fierce  as  ten  furies,  terrible  as  hell, 
And  shook  a  dreadful  dart ;  what  seemed  his  head 
The  likeness  of  a  kingly  crown  had  on." 

Then  follows,  in  Milton's  great  epic,  a  descrip- 
tion  of  the   meeting  between   the   arch-fiend   and 

1  Preached  in  St.  Paul's  Church,  Detroit,  on  the  morning  of  the 
second  Sunday  in  Advent,  1S84. 


THE  INDIGNITY  OF  SIN. 


109 


these  horrible  shapes,  of  the  imminent  conflict,  the 
sudden  recognition,  the  final  reconciliation,  and 
then  of  the  opening  of  the  gates  of  hell  by  the  keys 
of  death,  and  of  the  sallying  forth  of  these  malig- 
nant powers  to  vex  and  destroy  the  human  race. 
And  when  we  look  upon  the  course  of  human  his- 
tory we  seem  to  see  a  direful  confirmation  of  the 
poet's  story.  As  if  in  very  deed  sin  and  death 
had  issued  forth  from  hell's  yawning  portals,  and 
had  indeed  come  hither  to  work  their  woful  will, 
we  seem  to  see  in  all  man's  manifold  wretchedness 
the  evidence  of  a  fiendish  power  too  subtle  and 
too  malignant  to  be  of  earth.  For  thrice  two  thou- 
sand years  these  loathsome  shapes  have  seemed  to 
walk  this  earth  of  ours,  the  one  sowing,  the  other 
reaping,  while  all  creation  has  groaned  and  trav- 
ailed, as  if  smitten  with  a  curse. 

We  need  not  invoke  'the  aid,  however,  of  the 
poet's  gloomy  fancy  to  deepen  our  sense  of  the 
awfulness  of  human  misery.  The  most  appalling 
fact  with  which  human  experience  has  to  deal  is 
the  existence  of  evil.  Fair  as  is  the  world  in 
which  we  live,  this  is  the  shadow  that  haunts  all 
its  visions  of  splendor.  Joyous  as  each  generation 
is  as  it  sets  out  in  the  glee  of  childhood  and  the 
gladness  of  youth,  this  is  the  woe  that  dogs  its 
footsteps  and  saddens  all  its  mirth.  In  Nature 
itself,  as  if  in  secret  sympathy  with  man,  there 
seems  to  be,  in  the  falling  leaves  and  the  sobbing 
winds  of  autumn,  and  in  the  moan  of  the  waves 
as  they  break  on  solitary  shores,  the  bodeful  sense 
of  evil.     And    that   evil   seems    to    confront   and 


no  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAM. 

threaten  us  with  dark  and  unearthly  malignity,  in 
the  coil  of  the  serpent,  the  roar  of  the  beast,  and 
the  strident  shriek  of  the  storm.  And  when  we 
turn  from  Nature  to  the  haunts  of  men,  we  en- 
counter the  same  sense  of  the  presence  and  ma- 
lignity of  evil.  Society  itself  may  be  said  to  live 
in  an  embattled  camp,  guarded  by  sentinels  who 
perpetually  stand  to  their  arms.  Courts,  jails,  and 
prisons,  policemen,  bailifts,  and  other  myrmidons 
of  the  law,  the  locks  upon  the  doors  of  our  houses, 
the  lights  that  burn  by  night  in  our  streets,  are  all 
witnesses  of  the  felt  presence  of  evil  against  which 
it  behooves  men  to  guard  themselves  and  those 
whom  they  love.  Not  only  so,  but  these  tell  not 
half  the  story.  There  is  a  deeper,  darker,  deadlier 
evil  than  courts  and  magistrates  can  deal  with  and 
punish.  Far  down  in  the  depths  of  man's  being 
is  the  fell  disorder  of  which  all  guilty  acts  are  but 
the  symptoms  and  outward  manifestations ;  and 
that  dread  disorder  is  sin.  What  a  terrible  thing 
it  is  !  How  boundless,  how  unutterable  the  ill  that 
it  has  wrought !  Not  a  home  in  all  the  world  that 
has  not  been  darkened  by  it;  not  a  family  that  has 
not  been  bereaved ;  not  a  life  that  has  not  been 
burdened  and  saddened  by  it.  All  the  groans 
that  agonizing  humanity  has  uttered  ;  all  the  sighs 
that  have  been  sobbed  out  of  aching  hearts ;  all 
the  tears  that  men,  women,  and  children  have 
shed ;  all  real  sorrow,  all  real  woe,  have  sprung 
from  that  terrible  thing  called  Sin,  the  mother  of 
Death. 

I  do  not  intend  this  morning  to  inquire  into  the 


THE  INDIGNITY  OF  SIN.  \  \  \ 

dark  question  of  the  origin  of  evil.  As  you  know, 
it  is  around  this  problem  that  the  most  subtle,  the 
most  eager,  and  the  most  bootless  of  all  theological 
controversies  have  raged.  It  is  not  necessary  to 
our  present  purpose  that  we  should  renew  or  re- 
view the  wordy  strife.  It  will  be  enough  for  us  to 
begin  with  the  postulate,  that  the  possibility  of  sin 
was  involved  in  man's  freedom  as  a  moral  being, 
and  that  the  actuality  of  sin  resulted  from  the 
abuse  of  that  freedom.  In  his  sovereign  counsel 
God  decreed  that  man  should  be  made  in  his  own 
image,  and  should  therefore  be  a  moral  being.  But 
he  could  not  be  a  moral  being  unless  he  should 
be  free;  he  could  not  be  free  without  liberty  of 
choice;  he  could  not  have  liberty  of  choice  un- 
less the  better  and  the  worse  should  be  present 
to  him ;  and  in  choosing  between  them  he  chose 
the  worse  instead  of  the  better,  and  the  result  was 
sin  and  death.  Through  man's  freedom,  then,  sin 
came  into  the  world,  and  death  by  sin.  This 
much  suffices  for  us  to  know.  There  remains  the 
question,  however,  What  is  sin ;  and  how  is  it 
related  to  the  soul  and  its  life? 

For  our  present  purpose  it  will  not  be  sufficient 
to  say  with  Saint  John  that  sin  is  the  transgression 
of  the  law,  or  that  all  unrighteousness  is  sin ;  nor 
with  Saint  Paul  that  sin  is  the  negation  of  faith,  so 
that  whatsoever  is  not  of  faith  is  sin.  Profoundly 
true  as  these  answers  are,  yet  a  little  reflection  is 
necessary  to  enable  us  to  appropriate  their  truth. 
We  must  first  recur,  then,  to  the  thought  of  what 
man  is,  and  of  what  his  relation  was  intended  to 


112  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAM. 

be  to  the  world  and  time,  to  eternity  and  God. 
We  have  seen,  then,  that  man  is  essentially  and 
characteristically  a  spiritual  being;  that  it  is  his 
intellectual,  moral,  and  spiritual  nature  that  dis- 
tinguishes him  from  all  other  creatures  known 
to  him  here,  and  that  this  it  is  which  makes  him 
what  he  is,  —  a  man.  Man,  then,  is  a  soul,  and 
the  soul  is  the  real  man.  In  this  state  of  exist- 
ence, however,  man  has  a  body;  and  body  and 
soul  are  so  intimately  united  that  they  constitute 
the  living  person.  Through  his  physical  nature, 
then,  man  is  related  to  the  world  and  time,  just  as 
through  his  spiritual  nature  he  is  related  to  eter- 
nity and  God.  But  in  this  complex  being,  man's 
physical  nature  was  intended  to  be  in  all  things 
obedient  and  subordinate,  the  instrument  and  ser- 
vant of  his  nobler  part;  because  his  spiritual  na- 
ture is  his  true  nature,  and  his  physical  nature  is 
common  to  him  with  the  brutes  that  perish.  By 
the  faculties  of  his  nobler  nature,  moreover,  man 
exercises  all  the  nobler  functions  of  his  being, 
taking  cognizance  of  the  meaning  of  the  world  and 
of  time,  of  ideas,  of  thoughts,  of  beauty,  of  good- 
ness, of  God.  But  the  faculties  of  man's  physical 
nature  deal  only  with  the  phenomena  of  time  and 
sense,  revealing  to  him  only  what  the  very  brutes 
can  see  and  feel  and  love.  Now,  it  was  man's 
temptation,  that  while  the  higher  world  was  acces- 
sible to  him  through  these  powers  of  his  nobler 
nature,  the  lower  world  was  making  its  insidious 
appeal  to  him  through  sense;  and  his  fall  con- 
sisted in  his  yielding  to  this  enchantment,  and  so 


THE  INDIGNITY  OF  SIN.  1 13 

giving  his  soul's  allegiance  to  the  objects  of  sense. 
The  choice  came  before  him  so  that  to  choose  the 
lower  was  to  reject  the  higher ;  to  follow  appetite 
was  to  forsake  duty;  to  believe  the  tempter  was 
to  deny  God.  He  made  the  fatal  choice.  The 
moment  he  did  so,  the  harmony  of  his  nature  was 
broken  up,  and  his  life  swung  from  its  true  centre. 
The  part  of  his  nature  that  was  intended  to  be 
servant  became  master.  The  world  that  was  in- 
tended to  obey  him  became  his  lord.  Time,  that 
was  intended  to  be  but  the  season  of  his  tutelage, 
seemed  to  span  and  include  his  whole  existence; 
and  all  the  glad  sense  of  immortality  and  of  God 
was  extinguished  by  guilty  fear  and  earthliness. 
In  a  word,  man  began  to  h^comQ  Jlcsh,  and  all  his 
higher  nature  to  be  foully  dishonored.  The  law 
of  life  which  had  reigned  in  his  soul  became  sub- 
ordinate to  the  law  of  death  which  reigned  in  his 
mortal  members ;  and  the  confusion,  the  shame, 
the  dishonor  which  then  began  in  the  soul  is  the 
awful  condition  of  heart  and  life  which  we  call  sin. 
Now,  then,  there  are  various  definitions  of  sin,  each 
one  of  which  is  true  according  to  our  standpoint. 
If  we  regard  sin  as  a  violation  of  man's  true  des- 
tiny, which  destiny  we  read  not  only  in  God's  lov- 
ing command,  but  also  in  the  very  law  of  man's 
own  being,  then  sin  is  the  transgressing  of  the  law. 
If  we  regard  sin  as  variation  from  the  right,  the 
good,  the  true,  then  sin  is  unrighteousness.  If  we 
regard  sin  as  the  negation  of  man's  true  nature  as 
a  spiritual  being,  and  the  identifying  of  him  with 
the  things  of  sense,  then  sin  is  materialism.     If  we 


114  ^-^^  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

regard  sin  as  the  fixing  of  the  affections  —  affec- 
tions that  were  intended  for  glories  beyond  the 
stars  —  upon  the  perishing  things  of  this  world, 
then  sin  is  worldliness.  And  finally,  if  we  regard 
sin  as  the  failure  or  refusal  of  the  soul  to  ap- 
prehend and  confide  in  the  unseen,  then  sin  is 
unbelief>  In  the  sphere  of  law,  then,  sin  is 
transgression ;  in  the  sphere  of  morals,  it  is  un- 
righteousness;  in  the  sphere  of  thought,  it  is 
materialism ;  in  the  sphere  of  conduct,  it  is  world- 
liness ;  in  the  sphere  of  spiritual  apprehension,  it 
is  unbelief.  But  it  is  always  the  one  and  self- 
same thing,  the  same  grim  and  ghastly  thing,  —  in 
the  godless  man  of  the  world,  and  the  ruffian  who 
outrages  law,  and  the  smooth  libertine  and  vulgar 
thief;  in  the  respectable  atheist  who  says  there  is 
no  God,  and  the  brave  outlaw  who  lives  his  creed 
and  acts  upon  his  belief  For  we  must  remember 
that  while  sins  dift'er,  sin,  the  evil  root  out  of  which 
all  sins  proceed,  is  the  same.  Sins  are  but  symp- 
toms :  the  disease  called  sin  lies  deeper  in  the  soul. 
You  may  hide  or  even  suppress  the  symptoms, 
and  yet  the  sin  may  be  as  deadly  and  ghastly  as 
ever.  For  instance,  the  sinner  may  not  steal,  but 
he  may  covet;  he  may  not  murder,  but  he  may 
hate ;  and  in  all  such  cases,  though  there  be  no 
outward  act,  the  sin  may  be  the  same  in  the  heart. 
And  oh,  it  is  an  awful  thought,  well  calculated  to 
humble  us  all  into  the  very  dust,  that  no  matter 
what  our  sins  may  be,  —  no  matter  how  decent, 
how  respectable,  how  secret,  —  they  each  and  all 
proceed  out  of  the  same  fell  disorder  as  the  sins 


THE  INDIGNITY  OF  SIN.  1 15 

of  the  veriest  wretch  who  outrages  man's  laws  and 
exhausts  man's  patience  by  his  wickedness  !  In 
all  cases  the  sin  at  bottom  is  the  same,  whether 
it  be  called  transgression,  unrighteousness,  material- 
ism, worldliness,  or  unbelief. 

And  now  that  sin  has  been  traced  to  its  last 
analysis,  let  us  consider  its  results  on  the  soul.  It 
was  Wisdom  that  of  old  spoke  the  words  of  my 
text,  and  her  voice  is  still  uplifted  among  the  sons 
of  men:  "He  that  sinneth  against  me  wrongeth 
his  own  soul."  It  is  true  that  he  wrongs  the  souls 
of  others  also.  No  man  ever  sins  but  he  inflicts  a 
grievous  wrong  upon  some  other  soul ;  it  may  be 
upon  many.  It  may  be  an  everlasting  woe  upon 
multitudes  of  souls,  both  here  and  hereafter.  Oh, 
if  we  could  only  understand  that  awful  truth,  —  the 
persistency  of  evil !  The  evil  word,  the  unfeeling 
jest,  the  cold  and  brutal  sneer,  the  wicked  example, 
once  done  or  said,  go  forth  dealing  death,  —  may 
go  down  the  ages  dealing  woe  upon  thousands  of 
souls  long  after  the  wicked  or  heedless  heart  that 
did  the  wrong  lies  mouldering  in  the  grave.  But 
it  is  not  of  this  that  I  now  speak.  The  worst 
wrong,  the  deepest  indignity,  is  done  to  the  soul 
that  commits  the  sin.  "  He  that  sinneth  against 
me  wrongeth  his  own  soul." 

And  first,  he  wrongs  his  soul  by  the  degradation 
he  inflicts  upon  it,  the  evil  that  he  scatters  through 
it.  The  soul  comes  as  a  new  creation  from  God. 
It  is  enshrined  in  a  body  that  inherits  evil,  —  evil 
propensities,  insurgent  affections ;  and  it  has  a 
hard  struggle  at  best,  and  cannot  win  the  victory 


Il6  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAJST. 

but  by  the  help  of  God.  But  the  man  who  sins 
makes  a  voluntary  surrender  of  the  nobler  to  the 
baser  part,  and  so  appropriates  the  frailty  of  the 
baser  nature,  and  makes  it  a  part  of  his  soul's 
being.  Each  sin  by  a  certain  reflex  action  spreads 
disorder  through  man's  whole  nature.  In  this  way 
the  very  bodily  appetite  may  become  the  appetite 
also  of  the  soul.  Oh,  grim  and  ghastly  are  the 
evils  which  sin  inflicts  upon  the  body  !  It  dulls  the 
eye,  and  palsies  the  hand,  and  banishes  manly  grace 
from  the  brow,  and  coarsens  and  brutalizes  the 
human  face  divine.  Disease,  decrepitude,  frailty, 
are  among  the  dread  indignities  that  sin  often 
works  upon  the  body.  But  something  far  more 
dreadful  than  this  befalls  the  sinner.  The  soul 
takes  on  the  vice  of  the  body.  The  worst  symp- 
tom of  drunkenness,  for  instance,  is  not  the  crav- 
ing of  the  body,  but  the  craving  of  the  soul.  The 
soul  of  the  inebriate  begins  to  crave  the  false  ex- 
citement of  drink,  and  an  obliquity  corresponding 
to  that  of  the  body  begins  to  be  set  up  in  the  soul. 
The  eye  of  the  drunkard  sees  false  or  sees  double: 
the  mind's  eye  begins  to  see  false  also.  And  so 
it  comes  to  pass  that  the  soul  of  the  drunkard  be- 
comes untruthful.  It  is  now  well  known  that  men 
who  habitually  get  drunk  will  lie.  This  is  the  rea- 
son that  men  cannot  trust  the  word  of  a  drunk- 
ard. So  also  the  deadly  sin  of  impurity.  The 
very  mind  and  conscience  become  defiled.  The 
mind  becomes  pander  to  the  body.  Oh,  horrible 
degradation !  And  so  we  find  that  there  is  a 
correspondence  and  correlation  between  different 


THE   INDIGNITY  OF  SIN.  1 1 7 

kinds  of  sin.  The  sensual  man  is  always  a  cruel 
man.  The  drunkard  is  a  liar.  The  thief  is  simply 
covetous  and  selfish,  just  like  the  worldling  and 
the  miser.  In  all  these  things  man's  whole  nature 
is  shamed  and  dishonored.  In  all  his  being  he  is 
degraded  and  coarsened  by  his  sin. 

And  this  becomes  all  the  more  evident  when  we 
examine  the  wrong  which  sin  does  to  man's  char- 
acteristic powers.  And  first,  his  intellectual  facul- 
ties, his  reason,  his  power  to  know.  It  is  a  great 
and  awful  truth,  little  heeded,  little  understood, 
that  all  the  powers  of  man's  intellect  are  blunted 
and  weakened  by  sin.  That  this  should  be  so  lies 
in  the  very  nature  of  things.  Man's  regal  mind 
cannot  be  overpowered  by  appetite  or  passion 
without  grievous  debasement  and  deterioration. 
Who  has  not  seen  the  splendor  of  some  lordly 
intellect  first  dimmed,  then  obscured,  by  excess  or 
folly,  until  its  fitful  light  would  blaze  out  only  at 
intervals,  and  then  go  out  in  piteous  darkness,  or 
fade  into  still  more  pitiable  imbecility?  But  even 
more  pitiable,  if  possible,  is  it  to  see  the  royal  in- 
tellect of  man  forced  into  the  base  service  of  the 
world,  and  compelled  to  drudge  like  a  very  slave 
in  the  interest  of  sordid  vice,  or  avarice,  or  other 
selfishness.  Who  does  not  know  how  such  intel- 
lect declines  into  trickery  or  beastly  cunning,  as  it 
watches  like  a  fox  for  a  chance  to  deceive,  or  like 
a  predatory  beast  to  seize  its  prey?  To  such  a 
man  high  thoughts  and  noble  purposes  become 
simply  impossible.  While  others  do  the  noble 
deeds  and  carry  out  the  beneficent  plans  of  life. 


1 1 8  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

he  is  intent  simply  on  selfish  gratifications ;  is 
pampering  his  little  pride,  or  seeking  his  little 
pleasure,  or  heaping  together  his  sordid  gains,  and 
so  growing  more  and  more  insensible  to  the  call 
of  honor  and  reason,  more  and  more  base,  and 
more  and  more  contemptible. 

Not  less  disastrous,  not  less  dishonoring,  is  the 
influence  of  sin  on  man's  moral  nature,  —  on  his 
power  to  discriminate  and  choose  between  right 
and  wrong.  Of  the  debilitating  efi"ect  of  sin  upon 
the  will  of  man  I  need  not  speak  at  length.  All 
observation  and  all  experience  prove  that  this 
is  its  immediate,  unvarying,  inevitable  efi"ect.  He 
who  once  yields  to  do  wrong  will  find  it  harder 
the  next  time  to  do  right,  until  he  speedily  be- 
comes powerless  to  choose  good  and  resist  evil. 
But  of  the  darkening,  paralyzing  efi"ect  of  sin  upon 
a  moral  sense  not  so  much  is  commonly  thought, 
though  such  effect  is  not  less  immediate  and  in- 
evitable. The  moral  sense,  which  at  first  is  quick 
to  discriminate,  begins,  under  the  pressure  of  sin,  to 
lose  the  keenness  of  perception.  The  high  sense 
of  honor  and  of  truthfulness  Is  dulled.  The  good 
seems  to  be  less  good,  and  the  evil  does  not  seem 
to  be  so  very  evil,  until  at  last  that  soul  calls  evil 
good,  and  good  evil.  Woe  to  the  soul  that  is  in 
such  a  case  !  Woe  to  him  that  puts  darkness  for 
light  and  light  for  darkness !  He  has  abdicated 
his  throne,  and  lost  his  regal  state,  and  broken  his 
sceptre,  and  flung  away  his  crown.  Such  a  des- 
perate degradation  is  not  reached  all  at  once,  —  not 
till  years  of  sin,  it  may  be,  and  of  indulgence  have 


THE  INDIGNITY  OF  SIN. 


119 


passed  by.  But  let  the  soul  remember  that  the 
first  sin  is  the  first  step,  and  that  the  next  will  be 
easier,  and  that  with  each  succeeding  sin  the  mo- 
mentum increases  at  a  fearful  rate  until  its  speed 
shall  hurl  it  down  to  ruin. 

Finally,  even  more  debasing  is  the  effect  of  sin 
upon  the  affections.  This  would  seem  to  be  the 
worst  degradation  of  all,  —  that  man  should  not 
only  sin  his  intellect  and  will  and  conscience  away, 
but  that  he  should  love  his  shame,  that  his  soul 
should  be  enamoured  of  its  degradation.  And  yet, 
who  does  not  know  that  even  this  is  the  effect 
of  sin?  Through  it  men  learn  to  love  the  base 
things  of  this  world,  and  lose  the  power  to  love 
the  nobler  things.  What  is  life  to  such  a  soul  but 
shame?  What  shall  death  be  but  the  beginning 
of  an  eternal  bereavement?  All  its  affections  are 
fixed  on  things  of  sense.  All  its  delights  and  all 
its  joys  are  bound  up  with  the  pleasures  of  sense. 
And  when  death  comes  and  strips  off  the  pam- 
pered flesh,  and  the  world,  which  alone  it  is  able 
to  love,  fades  away  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  a 
vision,  what  shall  eternity  be  to  that  soul  but  an 
eternal  bereavement  of  all  that  it  is  able  to  love, 
and  therefore  an  eternal  torture  and  an  eternal 
death? 

One  word  in  conclusion.  All  the  effects  of  sin 
upon  the  soul  may  be  summed  up  in  one  dreadful 
word,  and  that  is  Death.  There  is  indeed  a  phan- 
tom called  by  that  name,  and  he  too  is  an  object 
of  terror.  To  him  one  of  our  own  poets  has  said 
in  solemn  invocation,  — 


I20  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

"  Come  to  the  bridal  chamber,  Death  ; 
Come  to  the  mother,  when  she  feels, 
For  the  first  time,  her  firstborn's  breath  ; 
Come  when  the  blessed  seals 
That  close  the  pestilence  are  broke, 
And  crowded  cities  wail  its  stroke ; 
Come  in  consumption's  ghastly  form, 
The  earthquake-shock,  the  ocean's  storm; 
Come  when  the  heart  beats  high  and  warm, 
With  banquet  song,  and  dance,  and  wine ; 
And  thou  art  terrible,  —  the  tear, 
The  groan,  the  knell,  the  pall,  the  bier ; 
And  all  we  know,  or  dream,  or  fear 
Of  agony,  are  thine." 

But  it  is  not  of  this  phantom  king  that  I  now 
speak.  Compared  with  the  real  death,  this  may 
be  and  often  is  a  delivering  angel,  whether  he 
comes  in  the  evening,  or  at  midnight,  or  at  cock- 
crowing,  or  in  the  morning,  —  an  angel  of  deliver- 
ance to  those  who,  when  he  cometh,  are  found 
watching.  But  the  death  of  which  I  speak  is  the 
dying  of  the  soul,  the  decay  of  its  faculties,  the 
wasting  of  its  powers,  the  languishing  of  its 
strength,  —  the  progressive,  unending  dying  of  an 
immortal  soul,  with  all  its  unending  anguish  of  un- 
satisfied longing,  unfulfilled  desire,  baffled  hope, 
pitiless  remorse,  remediless  despair.  This  is  the 
dread  reality  at  which  men  ought  to  tremble.  It 
is  no  chimera  of  imagination ;  it  is  no  spectre  of 
the  future,  —  it  is  a  present  reality.  It  is  doing 
its  ghastly  work  even  now  in  every  soul  where 
sin  reigns.  For  the  soul  that  sins  is  dying.  The 
wa2:es  of  sin  is  death. 


I 


THE  INDIGNITY  OF  SIN.  121 

How  sweet,  then,  is  the  sound  of  the  gospel  to 
us  sinners !  How  precious  is  this  word  of  hfe 
which  tells  us  that  a  fountain  is  opened  in  the  house 
of  David  for  sin  and  uncleanness ;  that  there  is 
One  who  is  called  Jesus,  because  He  saves  His 
people  from  their  sins;  "that  if  any  man  sin,  we 
have  an  Advocate  with  the  Father,  Jesus  Christ 
the  righteous:   and  he  is  the  Propitiation  for  our 


sms 


SERMON   IV. 


And  thou   shalt  call   his  name  Jesus :  for   he  shall   save  his 
people  from  their  sins.  —  St.  Matt.  i.  21. 

THE  signification  of  the  name  of  the  great  Re- 
deemer, whose  human  birth  we  are  soon  to 
commemorate,  is  here  very  accurately  given :  and 
we  naturally  look  to  this  definition  for  its  deepest 
import  and  profoundest  meaning;  for  it  was  thus 
defined  before  his  birth  by  an  angelic  messenger 
from  another  world.  The  name  itself  was  not  un- 
common among  the  Jews.  Under  its  Hebrew  form 
of  Joshua  it  had  been  famous  in  the  annals  of 
priestly  and  patriotic  renown ;  and  in  its  etymo- 
logical signification  of  "  Saviour,"  or  *'  help  from 
God,"  the  oppressed  sons  of  Jacob  had  more  than 
once  seemed  to  hear  the  note  of  Israel's  deliver- 
ance. And  as  Joshua  the  son  of  Nun  had  been 
the  great  standard-bearer  of  God's  people,  and  in 
his  name  had  smitten  the  heathen  hip  and  thigh, 
so  again  and  again  did  Israel's  fond  mothers  give 
this  name  to  their  sons  in  the  hope  that  each  son 
so  honored  would  be  the  deliverer  of  his  race. 
But   when    the    true    deliverer   came,  though    the 

1  Preached  in  St.  Paul's  Church,  Detroit,  on  the  morning  of 
the  third  Sunday  in  Advent,  18S4. 


REDEMPTION,  1 2  3 

same  old  name  of  hope  and  power  was  given  to 
him,  it  was  given  with  a  new  signification.  He 
was  to  be  his  people's  Saviour  indeed,  but  it  was 
to  be  from  no  mere  external  evil  or  external  bond- 
age. His  great  work  was  to  be  far  more  intensive, 
far  more  inclusive,  far  more  comprehensive.  He 
was  to  save  them  from  that  which  is  the  secret  and 
source  of  all  real  evil  and  all  real  bondage :  from 
the  deadly  disease  that  was  feeding  at  humanity's 
heart  and  preying  on  its  life;  from  the  ghastly 
brood  of  ills  which  that  disorder,  with  woful  fe- 
cundity, was  daily  and  hourly  bringing  forth  to 
deal  destruction  throughout  the  world,  —  He  was 
"  to  save  his  people  from  their  sins." 

If  my  time  permitted  me  to  take  a  historical 
view  of  my  subject,  I  might  well  speak  of  the  des- 
perate need  which  was  dimly  felt  for  some  Saviour 
and  Restorer  In  the  age  when  Jesus  was  born.  The 
whole  world  was  lying  in  inconceivable  w-Ickedness 
and  wretchedness.  Political  servitude  and  servile 
bondage,  enforced  by  remorseless  Roman  legion- 
aries against  the  brilliant  but  despairing  efforts  of 
such  patriots  as  Ariovlstus  and  the  Maccabees, 
were  among  the  very  least  of  their  evils.  The 
expiring  forces  of  paganism  had  left  the  Gen- 
tile world  without  hope  and  wdthout  any  worthy 
ideals.  Under  the  degenerating  influence  of  sin 
and  worldllness  all  the  barriers  that  had  guarded 
society  had  broken  down.  By  the  secret  and 
open  assaults  of  guilty  passion  the  institution  of 
the  family  had  been  overthrown.  Marriage,  which 
God  by  an  eternal  law  had  declared  to  be  Indls- 


124  ^-^^  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

soluble  except  by  death,  was  made  a  mere  abstract 
of  convenience;   and  divorce,  that  Nemesis  of  lib- 
ertinism, began   to    desolate  the    homes    of  men. 
Fatherhood  was  no  longer  a  source  of  pride ;   ma- 
ternity was  avoided  or  prevented  as  an  evil.     Pa- 
rents no  longer  loved  their  children,  and  children 
no  longer  honored    their  parents.     The   heartless 
cruelty  of  the  Roman  matron  who  drove  her  char- 
iot wheels  over  her  father's  dead  body  was  only 
a  symptom  of  the    utter  debasement  into  which 
society  had  fallen.     Now,  in  the   midst  of   it  all, 
the    weariness    of  hopelessness    and    despair   had 
settled  down    like  a  pall    upon   the  world.     Men, 
women,  and  children  madly  flung  the  gift  of  life 
away.     It  was  easier  to  find  men  for  the  bloody 
games  of  the  amphitheatre  than  it  was  to  get  beasts 
to  fight  with  them ;    and    so  in    mere  wantonness 
they  hurled  themselves  against  each  other's  spears, 
amid  the  frenzied  shouts  of  a  light-minded  mob, 
who,  lacking  all  else  that  they  could  delight  in, 
gloated  over  the  brutal  spectacle  of  the  arena;   or, 
lacking  all   else   that  they   could   do   homage   to, 
lifted  up  their  voices  in  loud  acclaim  to  salute  the 
monster  who  happened  at  the  time  to  wear  the  im- 
perial purple;    and  who,  in  the  historian's  dread- 
ful phrase,  was  '*  at  once  a  priest,  an  atheist,  and 
a  god."     Words  would  fail,  however,  as  time  fails, 
to  tell  the  woe  which,  after  four  thousand  years  of 
guilt  and  wrong,  had  settled  down  upon  the  lives 
of  men,  when  in  a  vision  of  the  night  the  unearthly 
voice  of  an  angel  told  to  a  perplexed  dreamer  in 
Galilee  the  coming  of  the  world's  Saviour;   but  it 


REDEMPTION.  1 25 

was  in  a  character  not  looked  for,  not  expected, 
not  desired:  He  came  to  save  His  people  from 
their  sins. 

It  is  not  necessary,  however,  to  recur  to  the 
state  of  the  world  at  the  time  of  Christ's  coming, 
to  understand  man's  need  of  deliverance.  Sin  is 
an  ever-present  evil.  We  have  but  to  study  the 
human  heart  as  it  is,  to  see  how  great  its  need, 
how  dire  its  extremity.  We  have  already  learned 
what  sin  is,  —  the  fell  disorder  which  scatters  evil 
through  man's  whole  nature,  whose  work  is  de- 
crepitude and  misery,  whose  wages  is  death. 
From  this  state  no  human  agency  can  deliver 
man ;  no  power  can  rescue  him  but  a  power  from 
above,  which  comes  from  beyond  the  reach  of 
sin's  deadly  action ;  for  all  human  powers  and 
faculties  are  disabled  and  degenerated  under  the 
influence  of  the  universal  curse  which  his  sin  has 
inflicted  on  the  race.  Let  us  think  for  a  moment 
now  of  the  powerlessness  and  hopelessness  of  man 
under  the  dominion  of  sin.  Laying  aside  all  tech- 
nical language,  let  us  consider  how  helpless  he  is 
to  escape  by  any  agency  of  his  own  from  the 
power  of  evil. 

And  first,  there  is  a  common  delusion  that  sin 
is  like  some  diseases  that  are  said  to  run  their 
course  and  then  cease ;  that  is,  if  sin  be  left  alone 
it  will  exhaust  itself,  and  leave  the  soul  but  little 
if  any  the  worse.  How  common  this  notion  is  I 
need  not  say.  In  all  ages  this  has  been  the  delu- 
sion of  youth,  and  it  often  deepens  and  darkens 
with  advancing  years.     Who  that  has  been  rescued 


126  THE  DIGNITY  OF  AIAAT. 

from  the  glamour  of  the  world  does  not  shudder 
at  the  complacency  with  which  the  young  go  forth 
"  to  sow  their  wild  oats,"  as  the  phrase  is ;  at  the 
confidence  with  which  they  leave  the  father's  roof 
and  a  mother's  care,  to  go  and  mingle  with  the 
world  and  learn  its  ways  and  its  so-called  wisdom? 
Yes;  to  see  the  prodigal  go  forth  is  a  heart- 
breaking sight  to  those  who  know  of  his  peril. 
Sometimes,  indeed,  he  returns,  through  God's 
mercy,  but  never  the  same.  The  substance  — 
the  soul's  substance  —  is  sure  to  be  wasted,  the 
gladness  departed,  the  joy  gone.  But  often  the 
prodigal  never  returns  at  all,  but  abides  in  some 
far  country,  and  sinks  into  deeper  and  deeper 
degradation.  And  so  he  confirms  the  old,  old 
truth,  that  *'  whatsoever  a  man  soweth  that  shall 
he  also  reap;"  that  *' he  that  soweth  to  the  flesh 
shall  of  the  flesh  reap  corruption."  For  oh,  one 
of  the  worst  things  about  sin  is  its  persistency ! 
In  the  world  around  us,  as  is  well  known,  there  is 
a  law  called  the  law  of  degeneration.  When  by 
dint  of  culture  and  care  some  species  of  animals 
or  plants  are  domesticated  and  improved,  if  they 
then  be  released  from  care  and  abandoned  to  their 
own  instincts,  they  degenerate  or  revert  to  the 
lower  type  from  which  they  sprung.  Thus  the 
trained  courser,  when  turned  out,  soon  becomes 
the  common  and  shaggy  wild  horse  of  the  plains ; 
the  tumbler  pigeon,  the  winged  and  crested  pig- 
eon of  glorious  plumage,  the  carrier  dove,  degen- 
erate into  the  wild  pigeon  of  the  forest;  and  the 
most  beautiful  roses,  when  abandoned  in  a  deso- 


REDEMPTION.  1 2  7 

late  and  weed-grown  garden,  become  like  the  wild 
roses  that  blossom  in  the  woods.  So  throughout 
all  Nature  we  find  a  common  law  of  degenera- 
tion. But  far  worse  is  the  degeneration  that  sin 
works  in  the  soul.  All  the  baser  passions  and 
powers  grow  stronger  and  stronger  by  use,  and  all 
the  nobler  faculties  and  powers  grow  weaker  and 
weaker  by  disuse,  until  these  last  are  exterminated 
or  disabled,  and  the  man  has  become  mere  flesh. 
Therefore  it  is  that  the  more  sin  is  indulged,  the 
more  hopeless,  the  more  remediless,  humanly 
speaking,  it  becomes.  It  has  no  reactionary,  re- 
silient force.  Of  itself  it  cannot  stop  short  of 
death.  It  may  and  often  does  change  its  form  as 
years  roll  on.  The  frivolous,  undutiful,  pleasure- 
loving  sin  of  youth  often  changes  into  some  other 
form  of  selfishness,  such  as  avarice,  or  sensuality, 
or  drunkenness.  The  thoughtless,  lawless,  selfish 
boy  may  become  the  grasping  or  cruel  or  sensual 
man ;  may  become  by  means  of  his  own  selfish- 
ness what  the  world  calls  prudent  and  prosperous; 
but  in  this  his  sin  has  not  in  the  least  diminished 
or  run  its  course;  it  has  only  deepened  and  taken 
on  a  deadlier  form,  —  deadlier  because  it  is  now 
intrenched  behind  a  cold  and  inaccessible  barrier 
of  selfish  thrift  and  heartless  prosperity. 

And  if  sin  has  no  healing  power  in  itself,  no 
more  can  penalty  save  and  deliver  from  it,  —  neither 
the  suffering  of  present  penalty  nor  the  threaten- 
ing of  future  punishment.  Sin  has  its  present 
penalty.  With  all  its  early  glamour,  and  with  all 
its  later  delusion  and  observation,  every  soul  that 


128  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

sins  suffers  penalty  and  loss.  From  the  moment 
that  the  fell  enchantment  of  the  world  works  its 
spell  upon  the  soul,  it  is  deluded  and  deceived, — 
never  rewarded,  never  appeased,  never  satisfied. 
And  not  only  is  there  discontent  and  restlessness, 
unsatisfied  longing,  consuming  desire,  the  sense 
of  dishonor  and  failure  within  the  soul,  but  there 
is  often  the  external  penalty  that  waits  upon  trans- 
gression. But  in  none  of  these  is  there  any 
remedial  power.  In  all  the  round  of  human 
wretchedness  there  is  no  sadder  spectacle  than 
to  see  the  soul  sorrow  and  agonize  and  sicken 
under  the  penalty  of  sin,  and  at  the  same  time 
grow  harder  and  more  desperate  in  its  sin.  And 
yet  it  is  a  common  sight.  There  is  a  difference, 
not  in  degree,  but  in  kind,  between  the  godly 
sorrow  that  leadeth  to  repentance  not  to  be  re- 
pented of,  and  the  sorrow  of  the  world  that 
worketh  death.  And  this  is  the  profound  lesson 
that  it  teaches,  —  that  punishment  alone  cannot 
reform ;  that  penalty  alone  has  no  power  to  heal 
the  sickness  of  the  soul.  Statesmanship  is  at  last 
beginning  to  take  note  of  this  disheartening  truth. 
If  penalty  is  the  only  force  that  is  brought  to  bear 
upon  the  criminal,  as  it  too  often  is,  then  his  last 
state  is  sure  to  be  worse  than  the  first.  It  is  now 
well  known  that  discharged  convicts  are  as  a  rule 
our  worst  criminals.  It  is  by  no  means  uncom- 
mon for  the  thief  or  burglar  who  has  served  out 
his  sentence,  to  hasten  from  the  very  prison  doors 
to  the  commission  of  another  and  a  worse  crime. 
Therefore  there  are  thoughtful  men  in  whose  esti- 


REDEMP  TION:  1 2  9 

mation  our  prison  system  as  a  remedial  system 
is  a  total  failure ;  and  who  believe  that  as  things 
are,  our  jails  and  prisons  are  but  seminaries  of 
crime  from  which  a  great  and  growing  criminal 
class  is  being  constantly  officered  and  recruited. 
Nay,  there  are  those  who  believe  that  for  a  capi- 
tal offence  it  is  better  and  more  merciful  to  hang 
a  man  than  to  send  him  to  prison ;  for  if  he  go  to 
prison  he  is  almost  sure  to  get  worse  instead  of 
better,  but  if  he  be  hanged  he  may  at  any  rate 
save  his  soul.  I  do  not  intend,  however,  to  discuss 
this  subject  now.  Enough  has  been  said  to  sug- 
gest what  is  confirmed  by  all  observation  and  ex- 
perience,—  that  punishment  alone  has  no  power 
to  reform ;  that  penalty  cannot  save  from  sin  and 
death. 

So  as  W'C  pass  in  review  all  the  plans  and  methods 
of  human  reform,  we  find  that  there  is  nothing  that 
man  of  himself  can  do  in  which  he  can  find  deliver- 
ance from  his  evil  state.  And  when  we  add  to  this 
state  of  helplessness  the  sense  of  guilty  desert  which 
every  sinner  feels  in  his  heart  with  reference  to  a 
pure  and  holy  God,  which  drives  him  away  from 
God,  and  which  necessarily  separates  him  from 
God,  we  see  how  hopeless  his  natural  condition 
is.  And  man's  despairing  efforts  have  only  con- 
firmed this ;  in  all  ages,  in  every  clime,  beneath 
every  sky,  he  has  sought  deliverance  from  his 
evil  case.  Beside  lurid  altar  fires,  in  the  smoke 
of  sacrifice,  in  the  depths  of  forest,  in  mountain 
caves,  on  hoary  heights,  beneath  academic  groves, 
by  meditation,  by  self-inflicted  torture,  in  philoso- 

9 


I30  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

phy,  in  religious  nescience,  in  fanaticism,  in  idol- 
atry, in  all  the  movements  and  progress  and  de- 
cay of  human  thought  and  human  effort,  man  has 
sought,  and  has  sought  in  vain  for  some  remedy 
for  the  grievous  hurt  of  his  soul ;  for  some  healer 
and  deliverer  from  his  deadly  evil.  Many  pre- 
tenders indeed  have  appeared,  but  none  have  even 
guessed  the  true  secret  of  the  disorder.  Some 
have  proposed  external  and  legislative  remedies ; 
some  have  offered  military  force  or  socialistic 
organization  ;  some  have  pointed  men  to  the 
secret  chamber  of  philosophy  or  to  the  desert 
of  asceticism.  But  all  have  failed,  utterly,  drearily, 
disastrously.  One  there  was,  however,  who  came 
in  different  guise  and  with  far  profounder  pur- 
pose ;  who  came  to  heal  men  and  so  restore  the 
soul  from  its  dread  disorder;  and  that  was  He 
whose  name  was  first  breathed  by  the  angel  of 
the  annunciation,  and  was  first  defined  in  all  the 
fulness  of  its  meaning  by  the  angel  of  Joseph's 
dream:  ''Thou  shalt  call  his  name  Jesus;  for  he 
shall  save  his  people  from  their  sins." 

What  man,  therefore,  was  unable  to  do  for  him- 
self, the  pitiful,  merciful  God  undertook  to  do  for 
him,  and  in  a  manner  the  most  effective,  the  most 
wonderful.  In  the  fulness  of  time  He  Himself 
came  forth,  in  the  person  of  the  Son,  "  made  of  a 
woman,  made  under  the  law,  .  .  .  that  we  might 
receive  the  adoption  of  sons."  It  is  a  pious  opin- 
ion entertained  by  many  divines  and  sages  that 
the  incarnation  would  have  taken  place  even  if 
man  had  not  sinned  and  fallen ;  that  it  was  part  of 


REDEMPTION.  1 3  i 

the  Divine  purpose  toward  men  that  at  the  proper 
time  the  great  archetype  according  to  which  man 
had  been  fashioned  at  creation  should  be  revealed 
in  the  Incarnate  Word,  as  the  standard  and  meas- 
ure of  what  man  made  in  God's  image  ought  to 
become.  Be  this  as  it  may,  it  was  not  till  man's 
sin  and  fall  that  the  hope  of  deliverance  was  given 
in  the  beautiful  promise  that  Eve,  the  sorrowing 
mother  of  transgression,  should  also  be  the  mother 
of  salvation.  Poor,  penitent  Eve  !  deep  down  in 
her  sorrowing  womanly  heart  the  blessed  hope  was 
planted,  and  when  her  firstborn  son  came  into  the 
world,  she  fondly  thought  he  might  be  the  deliv- 
erer ;  and  so  she  said,  **  I  Ve  gotten  a  man  from 
the  Lord."  What  heartbreak  came  to  her,  how 
did  the  iron  enter  into  her  mother-heart,  when 
that  son,  a  fugitive  from  the  face  of  man,  fled 
away  with  the  blood  of  his  brother  on  his  soul ! 
So  did  mother  after  mother  cherish  in  her  heart 
the  fond  hope  that  hers  should  be  the  seed  that 
should  bruise  the  serpent's  head.  But  ages  passed 
by,  —  ages  of  sin  and  suffering  and  wrong,  —  and 
all  hopes  were  baffled,  all  expectation  denied,  until 
the  hours  of  time's  fulness  came.  Then  in  a  man- 
ner ineffable,  mysterious,  wonderful,  the  power  of 
the  Highest  came  upon  a  virgin  in  the  house  of 
David.  He  in  whose  image  man  had  been  made 
became  a  man.  In  indissoluble  union  the  God- 
head and  the  manhood  became  one.  In  majesty 
and  in  humility  the  creating  God  and  the  arche- 
typal man  appeared  in  God-manhood.  Prophecy 
had  dimly  foreseen  Him  and  had  hailed  Him  afar 


132 


THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 


off.  It  had  given  Him  many  names  and  titles  of 
honor  and  of  power;  but  when  He  came,  He 
came  wearing  the  old  title  of  Saviour,  bearing  the 
old  name  of  Jehoshua,  Joshua,  Jesus.  But  in  Him 
it  had  a  new  signification,  and  was  destined  to  win 
a  new  glory;  for  it  meant  that  He  was  to  save 
His  people  from  their  sins. 

Let  us  think  then  of  Jesus  this  morning  as  a 
Saviour,  and  of  His  redemption  as  salvation  from 
sin.  Let  us  think  of  all  that  He  was  and  of  all 
that  He  did,  and  of  His  work  and  life  as  a  whole. 
In  three  respects  man's  state  because  of  sin  was 
desperate,  and,  humanly  speaking,  remediless;  that 
is  to  say,  in  respect  of  his  ignorance,  his  guilt,  his 
weakness.  To  these  Jesus  came  to  apply  the  ap- 
propriate remedy;  namely,  truth,  at  onemeiit,  grace. 
And  first,  one  part  of  His  work  of  salvation  He 
wrought  by  the  revelation  which  He  was,  and 
which  He  made  of  the  true  meaning  of  time  and 
of  the  world,  of  man,  of  eternity,  of  God.  If  we 
consider  the  incarnate  life  of  the  Son  of  God  as 
a  theophany  and  a  revealing,  we  see  at  once  what 
power  it  had,  and  still  has,  to  rescue  man  from  the 
blind  error  which  is  a  part  of  sin.  In  Jesus,  man 
sees  God  as  He  is.  And  wakened  by  this  vision 
He  sees  time  and  the  world  as  they  really  are. 
The  false  theories  of  life  on  which  sin  proceeds 
are  all  contradicted  in  Him.  Every  falsehood 
which  the  world's  enchantment  tells,  every  delu- 
sion which  it  weaves  with  its  Circean  spell,  finds 
its  refutation  in  Him.  Part  of  the  power  of  sin 
lies  in  its  specious  delusions.     Among  these  delu- 


REDEMPTION.  1 33 

sions  is  the  He  that  the  world  is  all ;  the  lie  that 
sensual  pleasure  is  good,  that  passion  is  strong, 
that  pride  is  majestic,  that  disobedience  is  wise. 
Behold  how  Jesus  came  and  refuted  all  these  im- 
memorial lies.  He  came  in  meekness,  humility, 
obedience,  renouncing  self,  and  force,  and  pride, 
and  the  world ;  and  doing  this  He  acted  the  God. 
Ah,  what  a  lesson  it  was  that  He  taught,  namely, 
that  God  is  meek:  therefore  to  be  meek  is  to  be 
godlike  and  great;  that  God  is  gentle  and  loving 
and  merciful:  therefore  it  is  great  and  godlike 
to  be  merciful  and  loving  and  gentle.  And  He 
taught  that  this  world  is  not  all,  but  is  only  a 
fleeting  shadow;  that  the  true  world  is  the  un- 
seen world  where  God  is  and  the  angels  are ;  and 
that  it  is  only  by  renouncing  this  world  that  its 
real  good  is  to  be  had  and  the  real  world  is  to  be 
won.  And  then  He  reintroduced  the  mighty  prin- 
ciple into  the  world,  the  golden  clew  which  man 
had  lost  and  could  not  find,  the  majestic  secret 
of  the  Divine  government  itself;  and  that  was  the 
principle  of  self-sacrifice,  the  principle  of  the  cross, 
by  which  He  overcame  the  world.  In  all,  then, 
that  He  did,  and  in  all  that  He  taught,  in  all  that 
He  was  and  suffered  and  has  become,  in  the 
majesty  of  His  unequalled  wisdom  and  influence, 
this  is  the  sum  of  what  He  taught.  He  taught 
what  God  is,  and  what  man  was  intended  to  be. 
And  doing  this  He  showed  the  shame,  the  false- 
ness, the  enormity  of  sin.  He  showed  the  gran- 
deur of  meekness,  the  majesty  of  humility,  the 
strength  of  obedience,  the  power  of  self-sacrifice, 


134  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

the  glory  of  love.  Doing  this  He  showed  that  He 
was  the  wisdom  and  the  power  of  God.  Beneath 
the  illuminating  splendor  of  that  teaching  all  the 
falsehoods  of  sin  and  worldliness  are  exposed.  A 
radiance  from  another  world  breaks  through  upon 
the  life  of  man.  To  the  eye  of  faith  the  unseen 
things  are  seen  to  be  the  great  things,  and  eternal 
life  to  be  the  real  life ;  and  the  soul's  dignity  and 
peace  are  the  only  concern  that  is  worthy  of  a 
man,  compared  with  which  the  whole  world  is 
as  nothing.  For  **  What  shall  it  profit  a  man  if 
he  shall  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own 
soul?" 

But  it  is  not  ignorance  alone  that  keeps  the  soul 
back  from  its  own  destiny,  and  constitutes  the 
power  of  sin.  No  doubt  ignorance,  obscuration, 
the  blotting  out  of  the  higher  truths,  the  dimming 
of  man's  spiritual  vision,  are  among  the  worst 
effects  of  sin ;  and  the  clearing  of  the  vision,  the 
removing  of  the  cloud  of  ignorance,  constitutes 
a  noble  part  of  Christ's  redemption.  But  this  is 
not  all.  Not  only  ignorance,  but  guilt,  stands  like 
a  barrier  between  the  sinner  and  God.  And  this 
guilt  is  not  only  regarded  by  Divine  justice,  but 
also  by  human  apprehension.  The  sense  of  guilty 
desert,  of  amenability  to  condemnation,  the  guilty 
sense  of  demerit  and  unworthiness,  operates  to 
drive  the  soul  from  God.  No  matter  how  clear 
the  persuasion  of  those  great  truths  which  Christ 
revealed;  no  matter  how  deep  the  conviction  of 
sin  and  of  its  helplessness.  Nay,  all  the  more  be- 
cause of  the  vision  of  glory,  and  the  consequent 


REDEMPTION. 


135 


sense  of  sin's  enormity,  does  the  sense  of  guilty 
desert  drive  the  sinner  from  God.  There  is  need, 
then,  of  atonement,  of  satisfaction.  Not  only  does 
God's  holiness  demand  it  (and  of  that  I  am  not 
speaking  now),  but  man's  guilty  fear  calls  out  for 
it.  The  soul  must  feel  that  its  guilty  desert  is 
taken  away.  And  herein  no  shame,  no  artificial 
pretence  of  reconciliation,  will  suffice.  The  guilty 
soul  will  venture  upon  nothing  less  than  a  full,  per- 
fect, and  sufficient  oblation  and  satisfaction.  Ah, 
long  and  wearily  has  man  prosecuted  his  solemn 
quest  for  some  adequate  expiation  for  his  guilt ! 
In  bloody  rites,  in  human  holocaust,  in  grim  and 
awful  sacrifices,  and  still  in  costly  ceremonials  and 
ascetic  observances ;  but  all  in  vain.  Peace  can 
nowhere  be  found  in  all  the  world  but  at  the  foot 
of  the  cross,  and  in  the  vision  of  the  Lamb  that 
was  slain  to  take  away  the  sins  of  the  world.  By 
faith  the  sinner  sees  that  that  sacrifice  was  made 
for  him;  by  faith  he  appropriates  and  makes  it 
his  own ;  by  faith  he  wears  the  marks  of  it  in  his 
daily  life.  And  so  his  guilty  fear  is  banished.  He 
feels  that  satisfaction  is  made.  The  spirit  of  bond- 
age is  banished  by  the  spirit  of  adoption,  whereby 
he  cries,  Abba,  Father.  Being  justified  by  faith, 
he  has  peace  with  God. 

But  even  this  is  not  enough.  Not  only  is  there 
ignorance  or  error,  and  guilt,  but  infirmity.  Man 
needs  not  only  truth  and  peace ;  he  needs  grace, 
help  from  another  world,  power  from  on  high. 
And  this  too  is  purchased  and  provided  for  in 
Christ's  redemption.     We  have  seen,  indeed,  how 


136  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAM. 

the  whole  effect  of  His  work  and  life  has  been  to 
give  man  health,  in  revealing  the  truth,  in  bring- 
ing life  and  immortality  to  light,  in  taking  our 
guilt  away.  But  He  has  done  more.  He  has  or- 
ganized the  means  of  grace  in  the  faithful  use  of 
which  His  people  get  life  and  healing  from  him ; 
and  above  all  He  has  sent  the  Holy  Spirit,  —  the 
life-giving  spirit  that  reawakens  the  principle  of 
life  in  the  soul;  the  spirit  of  truth  to  guide  us  into 
all  truth ;  the  spirit  which  convicts  of  sin,  which 
moves  to  repentance,  which  awakens  faith  whereby 
we  appropriate  salvation,  which  *'  helpeth  our  in- 
firmities," which  gives  us  joy  and  peace  in  behev- 
ing,  which  bears  witness  with  our  spirit  that  we 
are  the  children  of  God. 

Then,  let  us  sum  up  all.  Sin  is  darkness:  Jesus 
is  light.  Sin  is  guilt:  Jesus  is  peace.  Sin  is  weak- 
ness: Jesus  is  strength.  Faith  appropriates  Him. 
Conscience  chooses  Him.  Love  claims  Him.  He 
is  our  Saviour.     He  saves  us  from  our  sins. 


SERMON    V. 

ETERNAL     LIFE.^ 

Verily,  verily,  I  say  unto  you,  He  that  heareth  my  word,  and 
believeth  on  him  that  sent  me,  hath  everlasting  life,  and  shall  not 
come  into  condemnation  ;  but  is  passed  from  death  unto  life.  —  St. 
John  v,  24. 

IN  the  minds  of  many  thoughtful  and  devout 
people,  a  confused  and  mistaken  notion  exists 
in  regard  to  the  terms  "  eternal  life  "  and  '*  eternal 
death,"  and  the  application  of  these  terms  to  the 
soul.  The  physical  catastrophe  which  we  call 
death  is  so  obtrusive  and  overwhelming  a  fact  that 
we  are  apt  to  suppose  that  all  death  is  a  catastro- 
phe, and  that  the  soul's  eternal  life  is  something 
which  does  not  begin  until  this  earthly  life  is  over. 
The  truth  is,  that  the  terms  ''  eternal  life  "  and 
*'  eternal  death,"  as  applied  to  the  soul,  denote 
states  or  conditions  of  existence  which  are  begun 
here  and  simply  continue  forever  hereafter.  If  we 
study  the  New  Testament  Scriptures  freshly  and 
intelligently,  we  find  that  this  is  among  the  palmary 
truths  brought  to  light  by  the  gospel,  —  a  truth 
too  often  neglected,  too  often  overlooked,  but 
one  which,  when  rightly  comprehended,  is  of  the 

1  Preached  in  St.  Paul's  Church,  Detroit,  on  the  morning  of  the 
fourth  Sunday  in  Advent,  1S84. 


138  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

greatest  dignity  and  importance.  Among  the 
many  passages  in  the  Divine  Word  which  teach 
this,  the  one  which  I  have  just  read  sufficiently  in- 
dicates its  meaning  and  scope.  You  will  observe 
here  that  everlasting  life  is  a  thing  which  a  man  is 
declared,  on  certain  conditions,  to  have  in  this 
world ;  that  the  death  which  is  its  contradictory  is 
said  to  be  escaped  in  this  world,  and  in  the  very 
act  of  passing  over  into  Hfe ;  and  that  the  condi- 
tion of  escaping  the  one  and  having  the  other  is 
faith  in  God  through  Jesus.  ''Verily,  verily,  I  say 
unto  you,  He  that  heareth  my  word,  and  believeth 
on  him  that  sent  me,  hath  everlasting  life,  and  shall 
not  come  into  condemnation ;  but  it  passed  from 
death  unto  life." 

Now,  of  the  state  which  is  here  denominated 
eternal  death  I  need  not  speak  this  morning  further 
than  to  repeat  that  it  is  a  state  belonging  to  the 
sinful,  unbelieving  soul  in  this  world,  out  of  which 
it  is  here  declared  possible  for  the  soul  now  and 
here  to  escape.  This  death  of  the  soul  is  not  a 
catastrophe,  but  a  condition  or  state,  and  we  have 
already  seen  whence  it  arises  and  what  it  is.  It  is 
the  degenerating,  desolating,  deadening  effect  of 
sin  upon  the  soul  and  all  its  higher  faculties  and 
powers.  In  sin,  the  soul  renounces  its  true  dignity 
and  turns  from  its  true  destiny.  The  powers  in- 
tended to  apprehend,  to  choose,  to  love  eternal 
things,  are  voluntarily  surrendered  to  the  base  and 
transitory  things  of  time  and  sense.  The  baser 
passions  and  propensities  of  man  control  his  life, 
and  as  a  consequence   the   soul's   higher  faculties 


ETERNAL  LIFE.  1 39 

begin  to  dwindle,  to  degenerate,  to  languish.  And 
this  continuous  progressive  debasement  and  decay  is 
known  by  the  awful  name  of  eternal  death.  It  be- 
gins now,  it  is  set  up  here  in  this  life ;  and  the  dread- 
ful thing  about  it  is  that  unless  the  one  remedy  be 
faithfully  and  timely  applied  it  must  persist,  this 
dying  of  the  soul,  and  must  go  on  forever.  For 
we  have  seen  that  of  itself  it  never  runs  its  course; 
that  it  has  no  power  in  itself  to  recover,  to  react, 
or  to  cease ;  that  there  is  no  healing  or  restoring 
power  in  penalty,  in  punishment  or  anguish ;  that, 
short  of  the  one  remedy,  apart  from  the  one  Saviour 
and  Restorer,  it  is  altogether  remediless,  and  must 
get  worse  and  worse,  more  helpless,  more  hope- 
less, more  despairing,  as  long  as  the  immortal  soul 
shall  exist,  —  that  is,  forever  and  forever. 

Eternal  life,  on  the  other  hand,  is  also  a  state  of 
the  soul  that  begins  here.  It  is  simply  the  soul's 
true  life,  —  a  life  the  movements  of  which,  as  we 
have  already  seen,  consist  in  apprehending  truth, 
choosing  right,  loving  good,  in  the  doing  of  which 
man's  true  nature  expands  into  all  the  dignity  and 
nobility  for  which  God  designed  him  when  He  made 
him  in  His  own  image  and  after  His  own  likeness. 
In  the  text  we  are  told  that  this  mighty  inward 
movement  of  the  soul  whereby  it  appropriates  sal- 
vation and  grace  is  faith  in  God  through  Jesus. 
Here,  then,  is  the  great  truth  of  the  gospel,  —  the 
Son  of  God  has  purchased  redemption  for  us.  His 
great  and  holy  name  is  justified  in  all  the  fulness 
of  its  divine  meaning,  in  that  He  lived  and  died  and 
rose  again,  and  now  lives  to  save  His  people  from 


I40  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN, 

their  sins;  and  by  faith  we  appropriate  what  He 
has  done,  and  pass  from  death  to  Hfe.  And  let  no 
one  suppose  that  this  in  itself  is  a  light  matter  or  a 
small  thing.  It  is  the  soul's  triumph  over  all  that 
is  unworthy  and  base.  '*  This  is  the  victory  that 
overcometh  the  world,  even  our  faith."  The  reve- 
lation made  by  Jesus  was  of  truths  that  were  ab- 
solutely undiscoverable  by  man.  It  was  not  that 
they  were  mysterious,  or  complex,  or  transcenden- 
tal, but  they  were  so  contradictory  to  the  pride  and 
self-sufficiency  of  the  sinful  heart.  All  the  imagi- 
nations of  man's  confused  and  perverted  mind  were 
overthrown  and  set  at  nought.  The  strange  hu- 
mility in  which  He  came  and  acted  the  God ;  the 
meekness  in  which  He  showed  Divine  things  and 
the  Divine  power  to  men  ;  the  marvellous  renun- 
ciation of  the  world  and  of  self;  the  deep  and 
tender  lessons  of  love  which  He  exemplified  and 
taught;  and  finally,  the  strange,  unearthly  lesson 
of  the  cross,  the  path  of  absolute  self-sacrifice 
which  He  trod,  and  in  which  He  bade  his  disciples 
to  follow  Him  as  the  only  road  from  earth  to  the 
skies,  —  these  were  lessons  and  these  were  truths 
the  living  apprehension  and  the  living  appropria- 
tion of  which  do  constitute  the  soul's  victory  over 
the  world,  in  which  the  soul  does  pass  from  death  to 
life.  I  need  not  enlarge  upon  the  heroic  character 
of  this  achievement.  I  need  not  dwell  upon  the 
unvvelcomeness  of  such  a  plan  of  salvation  to  the 
human  heart.  Just  as  of  old,  the  turning  to  Christ 
means  turning  away  from  the  world  ;  the  choosing 
of  Christ  means  the  renunciation  of  the   world ; 


ETERNAL  LIFE.  I4I 

belief  in  God  means  an  awakening  to  a  sense  of 
the  vanity  and  unworthiness  of  the  world,  and  the 
transfer  of  the  affections  from  the  phenomenal  to 
the  real,  from  the  seen  to  the  unseen,  from  the  vain 
and  transitory  to  the  abiding  and  eternal.  And 
this  is  not  less  difficult  now  than  it  has  ever  been 
since  the  world's  enchantment  first  cast  its  spell 
upon  the  soul  of  man.  The  glamour  of  sense  is  not 
less  fascinating  now  than  when  in  olden  days  the 
siren  voices  of  Circe's  nymphs  floated  over  dancing 
waves  to  lure  the  strong  Ulysses  and  his  wandering 
companions  to  their  ruin.  Nay,  it  is  all  the  more 
seductive  and  dangerous  now,  because  it  comes  to 
us,  to  so  many  of  us,  in  the  sober  guise  of  worldly 
business  or  society,  of  worldly  thrift,  of  worldly 
care,  of  worldly  prudence.  But  if  with  true  strength 
and  constancy  of  soul  we  refuse  to  be  betrayed 
into  a  forgetfulness  of  our  birthright;  if  in  the 
midst  of  all  worldly  pleasures  and  worldly  cares  we 
insist  that  our  souls  shall  live  their  true  life  ;  if 
amid  the  din  and  roar  of  this  world's  busy  pur- 
suits we  bend  the  ear  of  the  spirit  to  catch  the 
Divine  Word,  and  with  living  faith  believe  not  in 
time  and  the  world  only,  but  in  eternity  and  God, 
then  shall  eternal  life  abide  in  us.  For  *'  he  that 
heareth  my  word  and  believeth  on  him  that  sent  me 
hath  everlasting  life,  and  shall  not  come  into  con- 
demnation ;   but  is  passed  from  death  unto  life." 

Now,  what  I  wish  to  do  to-day,  is  to  point  out  to 
you  the  dignity  and  the  joy  of  this  true  life  of  the 
soul,  this  everlasting  life  of  faith  ;  and  if  we  can 
know  the  secret  of  its  blessedness  here,  we  shall 


142  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

know  what  its  blessedness  shall  be  hereafter.  For 
the  redeemed  and  ransomed  soul  simply  lives  on 
from  this  world  into  the  next;  and  the  blessedness, 
the  gladness,  the  joy  that  it  has  here,  it  shall  have 
the  same  in  kind,  though  in  larger  measure,  forever 
hereafter. 

And  first,  to  the  justified  soul  there  is  the  joy  of 
living  its  true  life.  The  soul  has  its  proper  life; 
and  in  the  very  living  of  it  freely,  without  the 
confusion  and  discord  of  sin,  there  is  deep  and  in- 
effable gladness.  We  look  around  us  and  see  the 
joyousness  of  all  undiseased,  unfettered,  and  undis- 
turbed life.  All  living  creatures  seem  to  exult,  and 
often  to  break  out  in  transports  of  joy,  in  the  very 
act  and  sense  of  living.  With  verdure  clad,  and 
in  light  arrayed,  the  fields  and  hillsides  afford  a 
scene  on  which  the  flocks  and  herds  disport  them- 
selves in  spring,  while  from  the  leafy  choirs  of 
overhanging  woods  the  birds  pour  forth  exultant 
strains  of  song,  and  even  the  flowers,  the  beautiful 
flowers,  seem  to  smile  with  gladness,  as  if  it  were 
a  very  joy  to  be  beautiful  and  to  live.  You  all 
remember  the  beautiful  little  idyl  of  Wordsworth, 
whose  great  poetic  soul  was  always  so  profoundly 
stirred  at  the  sight  of  Nature's  beauty  and  life.  He 
said:  — 

"  I  wandered  lonely  as  a  cloud 

That  floats  on  high  o'er  vales  and  hills, 
When  all  at  once  I  saw  a  cloud, 

A  host  of  golden  daffodils, 
Beside  the  lake,  beneath  the  trees, 
Fluttering  and  dancing  in  the  breeze. 


ETERNAL  LIFE.  1 43 

"  Continuous  as  the  stars  that  shine 
And  twinkle  on  the  Milky  Way, 
They  stretched  in  never  ending  line 

Along  the  margin  of  a  bay : 
Ten  thousand  saw  I  at  a  glance, 
Tossing  their  heads  in  sprightly  dance. 

"The  waves  beside  them  danced,  but  they 
Outdid  the  sparkling  waves  in  glee : 
A  poet  could  not  but  be  gay 
In  such  a  jocund  company. 
I  gazed  and  gazed,  but  little  thought 
What  wealth  the  show  to  me  had  brought. 

"  For  oft  when  on  my  couch  I  lie 

In  vacant  or  in  pensive  mood,  * 

They  flash  upon  that  inward  eye 
Which  is  the  bliss  of  solitude. 
And  then  my  heart  with  pleasure  fills, 
And  dances  with  the  daffodils." 

So  in  all  life  there  is  joy;  much  more  in  the 
soul's  true  life.  In  the  free  exercise  of  its  noblest 
faculties ;  in  the  free  use  of  its  noblest  powers ;  in 
the  free  apprehension  of  Divine  truth,  the  free 
choosing  of  the  right,  the  unselfish  loving  of  the 
beautiful  and  the  good,  —  it  is  a  joy  even  now  and 
here  so  to  live  the  true  life  of  the  soul.  And  when 
we  come  to  analyze  this  joy,  we  find  that  in  all  its 
details  it  is  a  life  of  blessedness.  For,  first,  there 
is  the  joy  of  triumph,  ih^  gatidiam  certaniinis,  that 
courts  and  enjoys  the  well-won  victory.  For  as  all 
life  is  a  conflict  and  a  victory  over  whatsoever 
hinders  or  attacks  it,  much  more  is  the  soul's  true 
life  a  continual  conflict  and  victory.     Sense,  with 


144  ^-^-^  DIGNITY  OF  man: 

all  its  delusions  and  new  sorceries,  interposes  to 
obscure  or  terminate  the  soul's  lofty  vision  of  far- 
off  truth.  Evil,  with  all  its  seductive  wiles,  attempts 
to  betray  the  soul  to  sin  and  wrong.  Worldly  and 
carnal  pleasures  woo  the  soul's  affections  from  their 
true  and  worthy  objects.  To  resist  these  is  con- 
flict worthy  of  heroic  souls ;  to  stand  steadfast,  to 
be  true  to  truth,  goodness,  to  righteousness,  —  this 
is  victory,  and  the  joy  of  it  is  bliss  to  the  strug- 
gling, conquering  soul.  And  when  the  soul's  vic- 
torious inner  life  is  translated  into  worthy  outward 
action,  that  outward  life  becomes  heroic  too,  —  the 
life  of  a  knightly  soul  that  proves  its  knighthood 
and  receives  its  reward  in  scattering  error,  in  right- 
ing wrong,  in  helping  the  weak,  in  relieving  the 
oppressed,  and  in  doing  his  duty  to  God  and  all 
the  world. 

And  then  there  is  the  joy  of  progress.  For  the 
soul's  true  life  is  a  progress  from  the  less  to  the 
greater,  from  the  partial  to  the  more  perfect  good. 
At  first  its  movements  are  feeble,  its  apprehensions 
of  truth  are  dim  and  confused ;  the  motions  of  its 
moral  nature  are  indistinct;  the  play  of  its  spiritual 
affections  is  unsteady.  But  as  the  soul's  life  ad- 
vances, all  these  nobler  functions  are  better  dis- 
charged, all  its  nobler  faculties  grow  stronger. 
Temptations  that  were  once  mighty  become  power- 
less; sins  that  were  once  easy  become  impossible. 
The  spell  of  worldliness  is  broken ;  the  soul  ex- 
pands to  the  measure  of  the  stature  of  a  man  in 
Christ  Jesus.  There  is  growth  in  humility,  and 
so  there  is  no  more  galling  and  fretting  of  pride. 


ETERNAL  LIFE. 


H5 


There  is  growth  in  meekness,  and  so  the  burden  of 
resentment  is  laid  aside.  There  is  growth  in  faith, 
and  so  the  unseen  things  are  seen  with  more  and 
more  distinctness  to  be  the  great  thing.  There  is 
growth  in  hope,  and  so  the  soul  grows  glad  and 
young  as  it  lays  hold  on  the  hope  of  eternal  life. 
There  is  growth  in  love,  —  in  the  blissful  love  that 
never  faileth,  that  suffereth  long  and  is  kind,  that 
is  not  easily  provoked,  thinketh  no  evil ;  that  bear- 
eth  all  things,  believeth  all  things,  hopeth  all 
things,  endureth  all  things. 

And  then  there  is  the  joy  of  self-sacrifice.  Self- 
sacrifice  for  duty  and  for  love  is  the  very  joy  of  the 
soul's  true  life.  Here,  now,  is  a  great  and  recondite 
truth.  Man  had  forgotten  it.  With  all  his  think- 
ing he  could  not  rediscover  it;  with  all  his  search- 
ing he  could  not  find  it  out.  But  God  revealed  it 
in  Jesus.  And  revealing  it  He  showed  not  only 
the  Divine  wisdom  and  power,  but  also  the  Divine 
blessedness.  In  his  selfishness  man  had  tried  all 
other  kinds  of  sacrifice  in  his  quest  for  some  kind 
of  offering  that  his  soul  might  delight  in.  For  he 
dimly  knew  that  somehow,  not  in  getting  merely, 
but  in  giving,  his  soul's  true  wealth  must  con- 
sist. So  he  lavished  wildly  of  all  his  costliest 
and  best.  In  Oriental  splendor,  in  Greek  beauty, 
in  Roman  pageantry,  in  barbaric  pomp  and  mag- 
nificence, he  prosecuted  his  despairing  quest  for 
some  way  to  get  the  hidden  bliss  that  belongs  to 
loving,  when  suddenly  the  cross  of  Jesus  flashed 
the  Divine  truth  upon  the  weary  world.  In  self- 
sacrifice    love    finds    its    bliss,   its    hidden   joy,   its 

lO 


146  THE   DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

secret  gladness.  It  is  a  lesson  for  heroic  souls, 
and  the  world  with  characteristic  cowardice  shrinks 
from  it ;  but  even  the  world  is  learning  at  last  this 
great  lesson  of  the  cross.  When  we  look  around 
us,  we  see  that  selfishness  not  only  works  almost 
all  the  evil  that  man  inflicts  on  man,  but  that  self- 
ishness is  the  great  woe  of  the  human  heart.  Not 
only  does  it  work  the  sorrow  which  the  drunkard, 
the  gambler,  the  thief,  the  libertine  inflict  on  others, 
but  it  makes  them  what  they  are,  and  is  always  to 
them  the  poisoned  source  of  unhappiness  and  un- 
rest. The  selfish  man  is  always  the  unblest  man. 
No  selfish  soul  is  happy.  Selfishness  always  fails 
of  its  aim ;  it  always  misses  its  mark.  But  in  lov- 
ing and  dutiful  self-sacrifice  the  soul  finds  its  joy 
and  its  exaltation,  even  as  Jesus  our  great  Exem- 
plar, who  for  the  joy  that  was  set  before  Him  en- 
dured the  cross,  despising  the  shame,  and  is  even 
set  down  at  the  right  hand  of  the  Majesty  on  high. 
Who  does  not  understand  something  of  this?  Who 
are  the  great  and  happy  souls  of  earth?  Not  those, 
assuredly,  who  look  for  base  ease,  or  sordid  gain, 
or  selfish  advantage,  or  guilty  pleasure;  but  the 
pure  and  strong  and  lofty  souls,  who  in  loving  the 
unseen  and  following  lofty  ideals  gladly  sacrifice 
themselves  for  what  they  love.  The  patriot  who 
goes  at  his  country's  summons  to  battle  ;  the  father 
and  husband  who  scorns  delight  and  lives  labo- 
rious days  for  wife  and  children;  the  mother  who 
turns  away  from  all  delights  to  bend  in  yearning 
tenderness  above  the  couch  of  her  sick  or  afflicted 
child :   the  Christian  man  and  woman  who  in  lov- 


ETERNAL   LIFE. 


147 


ing,  dutiful  deeds  of  brotherly  love  and  good-will  de- 
light to  help  the  unfortunate  and  make  the  wretched 
happy,  — these  are  the  great  and  happy  souls,  and 
in  their  self-sacrifice  they  find  the  highest  joy  of 
their  soul's  true  life. 

In  a  word,  then,  the  soul's  true  life  in  this  world 
is  the  life  of  faith,  hope,  and  of  love.  In  the  vic- 
tory of  its  faith,  the  progress  of  its  hope,  the  glad 
self-sacrifice  of  its  love,  its  joy  consists.  And  oh, 
dear  brethren,  compared  with  this  joy,  how  utterly 
vain  and  unsatisfying  are  all  the  other  joys  of 
earth  !  For  all  other  joys  are  outside  of  man,  and 
cannot  reach  the  centre  of  his  being.  Therefore, 
you  may  lavish  all  imaginable  splendor  and  all 
imaginable  wealth  upon  man,  and  if  he  have  not 
the  secret  joy,  this  peace  of  God  in  his  heart,  the 
soul  is  restless  and  wretched,  and  poor  and  un- 
satisfied. But  with  this  joy  and  gladness  in  the 
heart,  the  soul's  true  life  is  blissfully,  peacefully 
lived,  spite  of  sorrow,  spite  of  pain,  spite  of  care ; 
nay,  it  is  lived  through  these,  and  through  the  dark 
valley  and  shadow  of  death  itself,  into  the  fuller, 
richer,  more  abounding  life  beyond  the  grave. 

And  this  brings  me  to  my  concluding  thought. 
We  have  seen  what  the  soul's  true  life  in  this  world 
is.  What  shall  it  be  in  the  next  world  but  the 
same  in  kind,  though  in  fuller,  larger  measure?  In 
an  age  of  curious  and  adventurous  research  like 
this,  it  is  impossible  not  to  feel  a  profound  interest 
in  what,  after  all,  is  the  great  mystery  of  all  mys- 
teries, —  the  life  beyond  the  grave.  As  knowledge 
grows  and  thought  widens,  men  become  more  and 


148  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

more  intolerant  of  mystery.  For  long  ages  the 
great  river  of  Egypt  flowed  out  of  mystery  to  the 
sea.  Year  by  year  it  rose  and  fell,  overflowing  its 
banks  and  fertilizing  all  the  plain.  Mighty  empires 
rose  and  flourished  along  its  course.  Toiling 
millions  builded  the  great  pyramids  to  be  the 
monuments  of  forgotten  greatness.  Dynasty  after 
dynasty  ruled  and  passed  away.  The  great  Sphinx, 
with  mournful  visage,  saw  them  come  and  go,  and 
still  the  great  river  rose  and  fell,  and  no  man  knew 
and  no  man  guessed  the  secret  of  its  annual  in- 
undation. But  this  age  could  not  longer  brook 
the  great  secret  that  lay  concealed  in  the  heart 
of  the  dark  continent.  Traveller  after  traveller,  ad- 
venturer after  adventurer,  set  out  to  discover  the 
source  of  the  Nile,  and  so  to  solve  the  mystery. 
With  increasing  eagerness  and  in  larger  number 
the  men  pressed  forward.  Many  went,  but  few 
returned,  until  at  last  the  secret  was  discovered. 
So  also  into  the  mystery  that  broods  in  icy  deso- 
lation over  the  Polar  Seas.  Men  have  gone  and 
perished,  and  still  have  gone,  and  are  ready  still 
to  go,  to  find  the  secrets  of  that  wild  waste  whose 
icy  barriers  have  hitherto  defied  the  adventurous 
efi"orts  of  man.  Still  more  do  men  long  to  know 
something  of  that  undiscovered  country  from  whose 
bourn  no  traveller  returns.  Into  its  darkness  all 
the  generations  of  men  have  hitherto  journeyed, 
with  trembling  steps  and  slow,  sed  milla  vestigia 
retro7'sam.  Who,  then,  shall  tell  us  of  it?  Who 
shall  disclose  the  majestic  secrets  of  the  future  life 
of  the  soul?     We  look  in  vain  to  speculative  phi- 


ETERNAL  LIFE.  149 

losophy.  Some  splendid  guesses  it  has  made,  but 
only  guesses.  We  turn  to  Revelation ;  but  at  first 
glance  it  seems  to  be  strangely  mute,  as  if  it  knew 
not,  or  had  no  message  to  tell.  True,  Lazarus 
once  came  back  after  four  days  and  nights  in  the 
other  world;  but  we  have  no  record  that  he  ever 
told  of  the  things  that  he  heard  and  saw.  And  a 
greater  than  Lazarus,  to  whom  that  world  was  al- 
ways open,  before  whose  vision  it  was  always  out- 
stretched, whose  spirit  was  always  bathed  in  its 
supernal  glory,  who  passed  as  a  visitant  into  that 
world  through  the  gate  of  death,  and  then  returned 
and  companied  forty  days  with  His  disciples,  — 
even  He  has  seemed  to  tell  us  nothing.  Why  is  it? 
May  it  not  be  because  there  was  very  little  to  tell, 
except  what  we  may  know  already?  We  know  that 
the  life  of  that  other  state  of  the  soul's  true  life, 
the  life  eternal,  begins  here.  We  know  what  it  is 
here.  We  know  in  what  its  joy  and  its  everlasting 
nobleness  and  dignity  consist  here, —  in  the  victory 
of  faith,  in  the  progress  and  aspiration  of  hope,  in 
the  joy  of  self-sacrificing  love.  Must  not  these 
continue  to  be  the  sources  of  its  blessedness  here- 
after? The  only  difTerence  shall  be  that  the  limi- 
tations of  sin,  the  hindrances  of  earthliness,  shall 
be  removed.  Unfettered  and  free,  the  soul  shall 
expand  in  the  perpetual  delight  of  life  and  love 
and  peace,  —  the  delight  of  growing  knowledge, 
the  delight  of  more  and  more  adequate  utterance, 
the  security  and  peace  of  more  perfect  self-con- 
secration, the  deep  and  tender  joy  of  more  entire 
self-sacrifice.     How  this    shall   be,  I   cannot   tell. 


I  50  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MA  AT. 

Nor  do  I  care  to  hear  of  elysian  fields  and  sunny 
slopes,  of  celestial  towers  and  golden  streets.  The 
imagery  with  which  prophets  and  seers  have  pic- 
tured that  world  and  its  employments  may  be 
reality  or  metaphor.  For  one,  I  do  not  care  to 
know.  It  is  enough  for  me  to  know  this  one 
thing,  —  that  the  soul's  true  life,  the  eternal  life,  be- 
gun here,  shall  continue  after  death  substantially 
the  same,  and  that  its  joys  shall  be  the  same,  only 
fuller,  larger,  richer.  Oh,  then,  let  me  ask  myself 
this  question :  Am  I  living  now  the  soul's  true 
life,  —  the  everlasting  life  of  faith  and  hope  and 
love,  —  and  am  I  finding  now  and  here  the  joy  and 
the  blessedness  of  that  life?  If  not,  then  even 
heaven  itself  would  be  a  hell  to  my  untutored  soul. 
But  if  I  do  know  the  joy  and  peace  of  believing, 
then  eternal  life  is  mine  already. 


SERMON   VI. 


THE   SIGNS    OF  THE  TIMES.^ 


The  Pharisees  also  with  the  Sadducees  came,  and  tempting 
desired  him  that  he  would  show  them  a  sign  from  heaven.  He  an- 
swered and  said  unto  them,  When  it  is  evening,  ye  say,  It  will  be 
fair  weather  :  for  the  sky  is  red.  And  in  the  morning,  It  will  be 
foul  weather  to-day  :  for  the  sky  is  red  and  lowering.  O  ye  hypo- 
crites, ye  can  discern  the  face  of  the  sky ;  but  can  ye  not  discern 
the  signs  of  the  times?  —  St.  Matt.  xvi.  1-3. 

IT  was  characteristic  of  the  religion  of  Jesus 
Christ,  that  among  all  the  religions  which  have 
solicited  the  consent  of  mankind,  it  was  the  first  to 
refuse  to  appeal  to  the  lying  wonders  which  super- 
stition craved  ;  that  from  the  first  it  refused  to  rest 
its  claims  to  acceptance  on  portent  or  even  on  mir- 
acle merely ;  but  it  rested  them  rather  on  the  truth 
which  it  proclaimed,  and  the  fitness  of  that  truth 
to  the  need  of  the  world.  When  at  cultured  Athens 
or  warlike  Sparta  an  enterprise  requiring  conduct 
or  valor  was  meditated,  it  was  the  custom  to  send 
a  messenger  across  plain  and  mountain  to  Delphi, 
to  hear  from  the  lips  of  the  Priestess  of  Apollo  the 
mystic  words  which  might  tell  of  its  success  or  fail- 
ure. When  a  conquest  was  projected  at  ancient 
Rome,    after  the   legions  were  mustered   and    the 

1  Preached  in  Christ  Church,  Detroit,  on  the  morning  of  the 
first  Sunday  in  Advent,  1885. 


152  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

plans  were  laid,  it  was  customary  to  send  an  augur 
to  some  neighboring  height,  to  watch  the  portents 
of  the  sky  and  read  the  omens  of  the  hour;  and 
if  the  flight  of  birds  were  auspicious,  or  Jove  thun- 
dered from  the  left,  or  other  favorable  augury 
appeared,  then  and  then  only  did  the  embattled 
legions  dare  to  take  up  the  line  of  march  to 
the  enemy's  country.  But  the  Christian  soldier, 
though  he  too  would  fain  know  something  of  the 
coming  time,  may  well  disdain  all  the  superstitions 
of  divination,  even  as  his  great  Leader  disdained 
them.  Jesus  laid  down  the  only  principle  of  gen- 
uine prognostication,  the  only  principle  of  scien- 
tific augury,  when  He  bade  men  study  the  signs  of 
the  times  in  their  attempts  to  forecast  the  future. 
For  the  evening  foretells  the  morning,  and  the 
morning  leads  on  the  day.  All  the  hours  are 
linked  together,  and  each  as  it  takes  its  flight 
ushers  in  a  kindred  hour.  Therefore  it  is  that 
"thro'  the  ages  one  increasing  purpose  runs;" 
and  we  must  read  the  signs  of  the  times  that  now 
are,  if  we  would  guess  what  the  future  of  the  world 
is  to  be. 

In  this  series  of  Advent  Sermons  I  desire  to 
speak  of  the  work  which  lies  before  the  Church  of 
Christ  in  this  land  and  age.  In  doing  this,  though 
I  must  speak  without  reserve  of  hindrances  as  well 
as  of  helps,  of  portents  of  evil  as  well  as  portents 
of  good,  yet  I  stand  here  as  one  who  looks  for 
victory,  for  I  believe  in  the  coming  triumph  of  our 
Lord.  All  around  us  there  are,  I  believe,  the  signs 
of  the  coming  of  His  power;    but  because  those 


THE  SIGNS  OF  THE    TIMES.  153 

signs  abound,  it  behooves  us  to  set  our  house  in 
order;  to  reform  whatsoever  is  amiss  in  our  own 
economies  and  the  working  of  them  ;  to  sound  the 
call  to  duty  throughout  all  our  borders;  to  cast 
away  the  works  of  darkness  and  put  upon  us  the 
armor  of  light,  because  our  salvation  is  nearer  than 
when  we  believed.  In  this  first  sermon,  therefore, 
I  shall  briefly  and  rapidly  discourse  on  the  great 
and  beneficent  career  which  Anglo-Saxon  Chris- 
tianity ought  to  accomplish  in  this  land  and  age, 
and  of  the  personal  effort  and  consecration  which 
we  ought  to  yield  in  its  service.  Then  in  the  fol- 
lowing sermons  I  shall  speak  of  the  function  and 
mission  of  the  same  Christianity,  and  of  the  evils 
that  it  ought  to  correct  in  our  domestic,  our  busi- 
ness, our  social  life. 

Let  me  then  in  the  briefest  and  simplest  way 
speak  of  the  general  course  which  Christian  activity 
and  beneficence  may  be  reasonably  expected  to 
take  in  this  land,  if  we  are  faithful.  To  do  this  in 
an  oracular  way  would  of  course  be  rash  and  pre- 
sumptuous; but  to  be  an  observer  of  contempo- 
rary facts  and  tendencies,  and  to  try  to  interpret 
the  meaning  of  them,  is  something,  surely,  which 
can  be  undertaken  by  the  humblest  and  most  self- 
distrustful.  The  problem  of  the  future  of  Chris- 
tianity in  this  land  is  to  be  worked  out  by  factors 
that  are  in  operation  now;  and  the  character  and 
operation  of  those  factors  are  among  the  signs  of 
the  times  which  we  can  discern  and  interrogate  if 
we  will.  Among  those  factors  some  are  constant 
and  unchanging;  as,  for  instance,  the  ever-present 


154  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

evil  of  sin,  the  undiminishing  corruption  of  unre- 
generate  human  nature,  the  ceaseless  activity  of  the 
Spirit  of  grace,  and  the  inexhaustible  efficacy  of 
the  old  gospel  of  love  and  power.  God's  reve- 
lation of  His  will,  moreover,  in  His  written  Word 
and  in  His  Church's  fixed  faith  and  unchanging 
order,  are  among  the  constant  factors  which  we 
may  count  on  in  our  effort  to  read  the  problem  of 
the  future.  Other  factors  are  to  be  found  in  the 
operation  of  certain  great  economical,  ethnological, 
political  laws  which  are  now  at  work,  and  which 
establish  a  certain  stream  of  tendency  or  current 
of  wants  which  we  may  estimate  with  more  or  less 
accuracy.  And  last  of  all,  there  are  the  factors  of 
personal  effort,  personal  faithfulness,  personal  de- 
votion, which,  while  they  are  the  most  variable  of 
all,  are  yet  those  which  most  entirely  depend  on 
ourselves  and  our  children.  I  will  venture,  then,  to 
speak  this  morning  of  the  work  of  Christianity  in 
this  land  and  age:  (i)  From  a  consideration  of  the 
people  and  the  civilization  in  the  midst  of  which 
it  is  to  be  carried  forward  ;  (2)  From  a  consideration 
of  the  means  and  agencies  with  which  this  Church 
is  equipped  for  carrying  it  on;  and  (3)  From  a  con- 
sideration of  the  personal  effort  and  personal  devo- 
tion which  we  are  called  to  apply  to  it. 

First,  then,  of  the  people  and  the  civilization  of 
this  great  country.  It  is  customary  to  say  that 
our  people  are  now,  and  must  continue  to  be,  a 
composite  people,  made  up  of  elements  so  various 
that  as  a  whole  our  people  must  differ  materially 
from  every  other  people  on  the  face  of  the  globe. 


THE   SIGNS  OF  THE    TIMES. 


155 


And,  indeed,  when  we  study  our  history,  and  the 
statistics  of  emigration  to  this  land,  we  find  that 
the  Keltic,  the  Saxon,  the  Teutonic,  the  Scandina- 
vian, the  Latin  races  have  all  come  hither  in  large 
though  unequal  numbers,  bringing  their  own  char- 
acteristics and  traditions  with  them,  and  that  here 
they  have  freely  mingled  together  under  the  pro- 
tection of  equal  laws.  From  this  it  might  be  ex- 
pected that  the  resulting  race  would  be  a'nev/ 
people  altogether,  differing  from  all  others  as  the 
tertiain  quid  of  the  chemist  is  unlike  the  simples 
of  which  it  is  compounded.  And  yet  when  we 
come  to  look  at  the  people  of  this  land,  we  find  as 
a  matter  of  fact  that  there  is  no  such  variation  from 
the  original  type  on  which  all  these  varieties  have 
been  grafted  as  one  would  suppose.  With  such 
slight  differences  as  are  to  be  accounted  for  on 
other  grounds,  the  American  people  continue  to 
be  a  branch  of  the  great  English  race,  keeping 
the  ideal  English  type,  English  minded  and  Eng- 
lish hearted,  re-enacting  the  laws  of  Alfred,  and 
speaking  the  language  of  Shakspeare  and  Milton. 

Now,  the  fact  that  the  people  of  this  land  have 
continued  unwaveringly  and  persistently  to  be 
English  in  civilization,  in  spite  of  the  enormous 
dilution  by  emigration  that  has  been  going  on  for 
a  hundred  years,  is  a  fact  of  immense  significance. 
Millions  of  other  races  have  come  hither, —  Kelts, 
Latins,  Scandinavians,  Slavs,  —  but  they  have 
not  been  able  in  the  slightest  degree  to  vary  our 
civilization  from  its  English  type  and  character. 
It  was    but  a  handful  of  Englishmen   that   came 


156  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

to  Virginia,  New  England,  New  York,  Pennsyl- 
vania, the  Carolinas,  Georgia;  and  yet  they  so 
impressed  their  ethnical  type  upon  this  nation 
that  they  have  made  it  Anglican  forever.  The 
reasons  for  this  are  significant  and  instructive. 
There  is  not  time  to  consider  them  here.  Suffice 
it  to  say  that  the  fact  is  by  no  means  isolated 
or  accidental.  From  the  first,  that  race  of  Anglo- 
landers  and  their  congeners  who  came  from  the 
banks  of  the  Zuyder  Zee  have  been  so  persistent 
that  they  have  refused  to  part  with  any  of  their 
characteristics  as  they  have  mingled  with  other 
races.  Wherever  they  have  gone,  they  have  given 
their  civilization  to  all  with  whom  they  have  min- 
gled. You  will  find  a  survival  of  the  old  Anglo- 
Saxon  hundred  in  the  New  England  town-meeting 
and  in  the  Michigan  town-meeting;  and  you  will 
find  trial  by  jury,  and  the  habeas  corpus^  and  the 
English  school,  and  the  English  home,  —  even  as 
you  find  everywhere  the  English  language  and 
English  laws.  These  institutions  endure,  and  they 
in  turn  help  to  mould  all  comers  to  the  one  type 
of  free  manhood  in  this  free  land.  Alien  races 
that  come  hither  are  emancipated  of  their  race 
peculiarities.  In  our  free  atmosphere,  beneath 
our  open  sky,  their  children  are  made  over,  as 
it  were,  and  transformed  into  American  citizens ; 
and  as  a  result  we  soon  see  them  speaking  the 
English  language,  reading  English  Bibles,  living 
in  English  homes.  I  have  not  the  time  now  to 
speak  of  this  as  I  would.  All  I  can  now  say 
is   that  this   mighty  people,  though   a  composite 


THE  SIGNS  OF  THE    TIMES.  1 57 

people  as  to  its  elements,  is,  and  shall  forever  be, 
homogeneous  in  its  character ;  and  that  whatsoever 
form  of  religion  is  best  suited  to  the  needs  and 
idiosyncrasies  of  the  English-speaking  races  is 
the  religion  which  is  charged  with  the  great,  the 
awful  responsibility  of  shaping  their  social  and 
religious   destiny. 

Now,  I  am  sure  you  will  acquit  me  of  the  shal- 
low presumption  of  ecclesiastical  pretentiousness 
in  bringing  these  considerations  before  you.  My 
simple  purpose  is  that  we  should  realize  our  op- 
portunities and  responsibilities  as  a  Church  in  this 
land;  for  as  our  opportunities,  so  are  our  respon- 
sibilities, great  and  constantly  increasing.  Be- 
lieving that  great  and  awful  responsibilities  rest 
upon  this  Church  as  the  historical  Church  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  race,  it  must  humble  and  sober  us 
even  to  recount  them;  nay,  it  would  doubtless 
discourage  us  to  face  our  responsibilities  unless 
at  the  same  time  we  might  lean  on  the  thought 
that  God's  providence  in  history  has  sent  this 
Church  to  this  land  to  be  our  guide  in  faith  and 
morals,  and  that  He  has  equipped  her  with  special 
agencies  to  do  His  work  among  this  great  people. 
For  in  the  first  place  this  historic  Church,  around 
which  all  the  noblest  traditions  of  Anglo-Saxon 
Christianity  have  clustered,  supplies  to  the  people 
of  this  land  the  one  venerable  authority  in  religion 
which  it  is  the  instinct  of  our  people  to  long  for; 
for  with  all  their  progressiveness,  they  do  cling 
to  what  is  customary,  and  venerate  what  has  come 
down  from   their  own   past.     This  is  obvious  in 


158  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAM. 

manners,  customs,  laws ;  as  time  goes  on  it  will 
be  more  and  more  obvious  in  religion  also.  In 
the  next  place,  her  advantage  is  great  in  her  sober, 
ethical,  undogmatic  teaching,  free  from  metaphysi- 
cal subtlety,  free  from  superstition,  mysticism,  false 
enthusiasm,  —  a  religion  of  manly  and  womanly 
activity.  One  of  the  most  marked  peculiarities 
of  this  as  of  all  English-speaking  races  is  their 
intolerance  of  all  mere  sentimentalism  and  mys- 
ticism ;  the  devotion  of  their  thought  to  v/hat  is 
practical.  In  the  long  run  they  refuse  to  be  mis- 
led by  false  enthusiasms,  such  as  make  the  French 
doctrinaire,  the  Latin  mystical,  the  German  tran- 
scendental, the  Irish  superstitious.  Nothing  can 
long  hold  the  allegiance  of  their  minds  and  their 
hearts  but  what  is  sober,  undogmatic,  practical; 
and  this  it  is  which  distinguishes  the  tone  and 
temper  of  Anglo-Saxon  Christianity.  Next,  it  is 
her  advantage  and  her  glory  that  she  is  the  one 
Church  which  has  always  put  duty  and  conscience 
to  the  fore;  which  in  every  Sunday  morning  ser- 
vice, in  the  reading  of  God's  eternal  law,  invokes 
conscience,  appeals  to  conscience,  respects  con- 
science, and  then  leaves  conscience  free  to  make 
and  enforce  its  judgments.  This  has  been  the 
course  of  the  Englishman's  love  of  liberty  the 
wide  world  over,  because  liberty  has  thus  been 
made  to  him  a  sacred  thing,  chastened  by  the 
responsibilities  of  moral  freedom ;  for  long  before 
the  battle  of  Trafalgar  the  English  Church  flung 
this  signal  to  the  breeze:  The  Church  of  England 
expects  every  man  to   do   his   duty.     Lastly,   the 


THE  SIGNS  OF   THE    TIMES.  1 59 

Church  has  the  great  advantage  of  having  a  decent 
and  stately,  but  at  the  same  time  a  sober  and 
reasonable,  worship.  For  while  this  race  does 
love  a  decent  and  stately  ceremonial,  anything 
that  is  fantastic,  or  sham,  or  unreal,  it  cannot 
long  tolerate.  It  is  its  nature  to  express  less  than 
it  feels  rather  than  more.  A  certain  reserve  is 
the  habit  of  its  honest  self-respect.  Above  all 
things  it  demands  manly  simplicity  and  reality  ; 
and  this  it  finds  to  its  increasing  contentment  and 
spiritual  peace  in  the  simple,  orderly,  real  worship 
of  Anglo-Saxon  Christianity. 

Now,  to  what  do  these  considerations  lead?  To 
the  thought,  first,  of  the  great  responsibility,  and 
then  of  the  lofty  dignity,  of  our  calling  as  Christian 
men.  Compared  with  the  other  agencies  that  are 
shaping  the  course  and  moulding  the  destiny  of 
this  community,  of  this  people,  the  one  agency 
of  most  surprising  dignity  and  import  is  this:  In 
all  ages  and  in  all  lands  man's  religious  interests 
are  supreme.  No  matter  what  sky  bends  above 
him,  nor  in  what  scenes  of  beauty  or  grandeur  his 
lot  is  cast,  the  one  thought  that  redeems  the  world 
from  commonplace  is  the  thought  of  another.  No 
matter  what  lofty  enterprise  engages  him,  nor  what 
deeds  of  high  emprise  his  strong  right  hand  finds 
to  do  ;  the  one  interest  that  always  and  everywhere 
ought  to  be  his  chiefest  care  is  the  interest  that 
cleaves  to  his  immortality.  But  here  in  this  busy 
land,  our  sober,  ethical,  practical  religion  is  more 
to  us  even  than  this.  It  lies  at  the  foundation 
of  our  public  liberty  and   national   greatness.     It 


l60  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

sentinels  our  homes  and  guards  our  domestic 
purity  and  peace.  It  hovers  over  our  society,  to 
beat  back  with  guardian  wings  the  foul  harpies 
of  evil  desire  and  unbridled  passion  that  would 
batten  on  its  innocent  beauty.  It  stands  an  in- 
visible angel  even  in  the  hearts  of  trade,  to  smile 
on  integrity  and  uprightness,  and  to  shame  fraud 
and  double-dealing  away.  And  this  it  does,  not 
as  an  alien  religion  or  foreign  cult,  but  as  one  that 
is  at  home  in  this  free  land,  and  that  is  in  full 
sympathy  with  all  that  is  good  in  our  national  and 
social  life.  Nay,  it  is  the  genius  of  our  Anglo- 
Saxon  Christianity  that  has  shaped  our  civiliza- 
tion and  given  us  our  liberty;  and  in  guarding 
these  from  all  harm  she  is  but  watching  over  her 
own,  even  as  a  mother  yearns  over  her  children 
whom  she  delights  in.  What  nobler  service,  then, 
can  men  and  women  engage  in  than  this?  Where 
can  you  find  an  interest  that  makes  such  an  appeal 
to  all  that  is  noble,  high-minded,  aspiring  in  man, 
as  this  work  which  is  committed  to  the  Churchmen 
of  this  land? 

What  this  work  is  in  its  domestic,  social,  busi- 
ness aspect,  I  am  to  try  hereafter  to  tell  you.  Let 
me  conclude  now  with  this  single  remark :  I  have 
briefly  recounted  some  of  the  signs  of  the  times, 
some  of  the  omens  of  success  that  attend  us.  Let 
me  not  fail  to  say  that  there  are  not  wanting  some 
portents  of  evil  in  the  horoscope  of  our  busy 
and  crowded  future.  He  is  blind  and  worse  than 
blind  who  does  not  see  vast  and  minatory  dan- 
gers   gathering    thick   on    the    right   and    on   the 


THE  SIGNS  OF  THE    TIMES.  l6l 

left  and  full  in  front  of  our  path  of  progress. 
There  are  clangers  of  class  combinations,  wherein 
men  will  forfeit  their  personality  and  lose  the 
dignity  of  their  individuality.  There  are  dangers 
of  class  conflicts,  wherein  all  that  is  sacred  will 
be  overthrown.  There  are  dangers  of  materialism 
with  its  degrading  influence,  and  of  intemperance 
and  passion  with  their  Circean  spell,  to  convert 
men  into  swinish  brutes.  There  is  a  subtle  scep- 
ticism in  the  air  like  a  foul  malaria,  which  is  im- 
perilling the  life  of  our  people,  because  it  bereaves 
them  of  their  faith  in  all  that  is  noble;  which  is 
sapping  the  manhood  of  our  men  because  it  ob- 
scures their  belief  in  the  God  in  whose  image 
man  was  made.  What  now  is  the  duty  of  the 
hour  but  to  rally  on  the  standard  of  our  great 
Captain ;  for  all  the  redeemed  to  gather  around 
the  altar,  and  thence,  and  in  the  strength  there 
gained,  to  go  forth  to  do  valiantly  for  the  Lord? 
In  times  and  lands  less  favored  than  ours,  when 
the  hosts  of  heathenness  raged  around  the  borders, 
it  was  then  that  the  plumed  and  belted  knight 
rode  forth  to  keep  the  marches,  while  Christian 
women  hid  themselves  behind  convent  walls,  to 
spend  their  nights  in  weeping,  their  days  in  prayer. 
But  in  these  better  days  we  have  no  feudal  knight- 
hood, because  all  our  men  are  called  to  be  knights; 
and  we  need  no  cloistered  nuns,  because  all  our 
women  are  called  to  be  sisters  of  mercy,  women 
of  prayer.  In  all  our  homes  there  may  be  saintly 
women  and  knightly,  godly  men.  From  their 
portals  the  one  may  issue  forth  as  gentle  ministers 

II 


1 62  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

of  mercy  to  the  poor,  all  the  better  and  more 
Christ-like  because  no  conventual  garb  marks 
them  to  be  seen  of  men ;  while  the  other  may 
pass  along  these  streets  to  do  deeds  all  the  more 
knightly  and  true  because  the  cross  is  in  their 
hearts  instead  of  on  their  shields,  and  because  the 
weapons  of  their  warfare  are  not  carnal  but  spirit- 
ual. Yes,  men  and  women  can  live  as  grandly 
and  die  as  sweetly  and  as  gloriously  to-day  as 
ever  they  did.  And  oh,  this  is  what  is  needed 
to-day  as  much  as  ever,  —  that  men  should  live,  as 
you  and  I  have  known  more  than  one  to  live,  like 
Bayards  and  Galahads ;  and  should  die  as  you  and 
I  have  known  them  to  die,  like  an  Arthur  who 
yielded  up  a  stainless  sword,  or  an  Agnes  who 
joyously  went  to  meet  the  bridegroom  as  the 
sun  was  sinking  to  his  rest  at  the  hour  of  evening 
prayer. 


SERMON  VII. 

HOME.l 
God  setteth  the  solitary  in  families.  —  Ps.  Ixviii.  6. 

nr^HERE  is  a  word  which  is  peculiar  to  our 
-■-  English  speech,  —  so  peculiar  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  translate  it  accurately  into  any  other 
language.  It  may  therefore  be  said  that  the  thing 
which  it  signifies  is  in  its  strictest  sense  peculiar  to 
those  to  whom  that  speech  is  the  mother  tongue ; 
and  that  word  is  Home.  In  its  larger  meaning  it 
may  be  said  that  the  religion  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  created  it.  In  its  best  meaning  and  high- 
est development  we  believe  that  it  is  chiefly  to  be 
found  among  those  nations  who  use  the  good  old 
word  itself;  that  is,  among  the  EngHsh-speaking 
peoples  of  the  world. 

Some  words  contain  a  history  in  themselves, 
and  are  the  monuments  of  great  movements  of 
thought  and  life.  Such  a  word  is  Home.  With 
something  Hke  a  sacramental  sacredness  it  enshrines 
a  deep  and  precious  meaning  and  a  history.  That 
the  English-speaking  people  and  their  congeners 
alone  should  have  this  word,  indicates  that  there 
are  certain  peculiar  domestic  and  social  traits  of 

^  Preached  in  Christ  Church,  Detroit,  on  the  morning  of  the 
second  Sunday  in  Advent,  1885. 


1 64  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

character  belonging  to  them,  of  which  this  word  is 
the  monument  and  sign;  and  those  traits  have 
found  their  expression  in  the  economy  and  order 
of  the  home.  When  we  study  their  history  we 
find  that  from  the  very  first  they  have  been  dis- 
tinguished, as  Tacitus  tells  us,  by  the  manly  and 
womanly  virtues  of  fidelity  and  chastity;  by  the 
faithful  devotion  of  wife  to  husband  and  husband 
to  wife ;  by  the  recognized  headship  and  guardian- 
ship of  the  married  man  as  indicated  in  the  old 
word  husband,  and  the  domestic  dignity  and  func- 
tion of  the  married  woman  as  indicated  in  the 
old  word  ivifc,  —  betokening  the  presence  of  those 
home-making,  home-keeping,  home-loving  quali- 
ties of  mind  and  heart  which  have  always  belonged 
to  this  sturdy  race.  And  when  upon  these  ethni- 
cal qualities  the  vitalizing,  sanctifying  influence  of 
Christianity  was  brought  to  bear,  the  outcome  has 
been  the  building  up  of  the  noblest  of  all  the  in- 
stitutions of  the  Christian  life.  Therefore  where 
the  English  language  is  spoken,  this  word  is  among 
the  sweetest  that  human  lips  can  fashion.  There- 
fore where  an  English  civilization  is  established, 
this  institution  enshrines  all  that  is  most  precious 
to  the  human  heart.  No  man  is  poor,  no  matter 
what  storms  of  ill  fortune  have  beaten  upon  him, 
who  can  still  find  refuge  beneath  its  sacred  shelter; 
and  no  man  is  rich,  no  matter  how  splendid  his 
fortune  or  his  lot,  who  cannot  claim  some  spot  of 
earth  as  his  home. 

My  purpose,  however,  is  neither  philological  nor 
ethnological.     It  is  rather  to  speak  to  you  to-day, 


HOME.  165 

in  briefest,  simplest  language,  of  the  function  of 
Christianity  in  the  home.  However  its  economy 
has  been  modified  by  ethnical  peculiarities,  it  is 
God  who  has  set  the  solitary  in  families ;  or,  as  the 
Hebrew  may  be  more  accurately  translated  into 
our  English  speech,  "  He  hath  set  the  solitary  in 
the  home."  It  is  upon  His  unspeakable  enactment 
that  this  great  institution  rests.  Its  function  is  to 
carry  out  His  purposes  in  training  and  ennobling 
men  to  do  His  will.  Its  perfection  is  the  reflection 
of  His  love  in  the  majestic  order  of  His  Godhead 
with  fatherhood,  sonship,  life ;  its  beatitude  is  the 
maintenance  on  earth  of  the  peace  and  purity  of 
heaven.  It  is  the  model  after  which  all  the  other 
institutions  of  our  civil  society  are  builded.  The 
true  unit  of  the  social  and  civil  structure  is  the 
man-woman,  the  husband  and  wife  made  one, 
dwelling  together  in  unity  and  loving  concord, 
with  the  children,  the  offspring  and  objects  of 
their  love,  around  them.  In  their  relations  with 
one  another  each  finds  his  own  completeness ;  and 
all  are  hallowed  and  sanctified  by  the  peace  of 
God,  which,  if  it  reigns  anywhere  on  earth,  is 
surely  to  be  found  in  the  Christian  home. 

Taking  the  Christian  home  as  we  know  it,  then, 
there  are  certain  broad  features  of  its  economy 
the  mention  of  which  will  serve  to  bring  out  its 
character.  The  first  of  these  is  its  unity  of  orderly 
administration,  in  the  supreme  headship  of  one 
man,  the  husband;  the  supreme  dignity  of  one 
woman,  the  wife;  the  providence  of  parental  love 
in  the  nurture  of  children,  and  the  natural  piety  of 


1 66  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

children  in  their  reverence  and  obedience  to  their 
parents.  Of  course  all  these  rest  on  monogamous 
marriage,  that  holy  and  ineffable  bond  which  unites 
the  wedded  pair,  and  makes  them  one,  —  a  bond 
which  is  the  sacramental  sign  of  a  profound  and 
mysterious  oneness  of  soul  and  spirit,  in  which 
each  personality  is  lost  in  the  other,  which  there- 
fore the  Divine  Master  declared  to  be  indissoluble 
except  by  death.  Marriage  is  the  fulfilment  of  a 
divine  law,  without  which  no  human  being  is  com- 
plete. When  God  made  man  male  and  female, 
he  enacted  that  each  could  not  be  complete  with- 
out the  other.  The  question  which  is  superior  is 
therefore  idle.  The  one  is  the  complement  to  the 
other.  Made  for  one  another,  each  finds  com- 
pleteness only  in  holy  matrimony,  which  is  there- 
fore a  noble  vocation  to  which  every  one  is  called, 
and  from  which  no  one  is  entitled  to  turn  away, 
when  no  insuperable  obstacle  is  interposed  to  for- 
bid it.  In  marriage,  then,  and  its  resulting  unity, 
the  man  is  the  husband  and  head,  because  in  him 
strength,  reason,  justice  abound;  the  woman  is 
the  wife  and  consort,  because  in  her  are  to  be 
found  the  gracious  tact,  the  unerring  instinct,  the 
loyalty  to  love  and  duty,  which  are  necessary  to 
soften  and  humanize  the  strength,  reason,  justice 
of  the  man ;  while  the  children  are  under  supreme 
obligation  to  obedience  and  reverence,  and  are  at 
the  same  time  entitled  to  nurture,  training,  and 
care ;  for  this  is  not  only  the  honorable  ofiice,  but 
it  is  likewise  the  highest  duty  of  those  who  bring 
children  into  the  world,  —  that  they  should  not  only 


HOME.  167 

love  them,  but  also  train  and  equip  them  for  time 
and  for  eternity. 

With  these  preHminary  observations,  let  us  now 
briefly  consider  the  Christian  home,  first  with  refer- 
ence to  its  discipline,  then  with  reference  to  its 
education,  then  with  reference  to  the  blessedness 
that  belongs  to  it,  and  lastly  with  reference  to  the 
dangers  which  threaten  it. 

And  first,  with  reference  to  the  discipline  of  the 
home,  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  there  is  a  home 
discipline  to  which  all  the  members  thereof  are 
subject,  —  the  father  and  mother  not  less  than  the 
children.  The  husband  and  father,  the  wife  and 
mother,  while  they  are  the  source  of  authority  in 
the  home,  are  themselves  under  the  authority  of 
the  God  and  Father  of  all,  of  whose  great  econ- 
omy they  are  the  earthly  representatives.  The 
only  basis,  for  instance,  upon  which  the  head- 
ship of  the  husband  can  securely  rest,  is  in  its 
conformity  to  the  headship  of  Christ  over  His 
church.  Saint  Paul  uttered  a  great  and  profound 
truth  when  he  declared  marriage  to  be  the  earthly 
homologue  of  that  union  in  which  Christ  and  His 
church  are  joined  together;  and  it  is  only  in  fol- 
lowing Christ  that  the  true  function  of  the  head 
of  the  home  can  be  discharged.  In  Christ  the 
husband  sees  the  model  of  what  he  ought  to  be. 
From  Him  he  learns  that  all  his  true  authority 
is  an  authority  to  be  derived  from  self-surrender; 
that  all  his  real  power  is  power  to  be  derived  from 
self-sacrifice.  Wherever  you  see  this  principle 
obeyed  by  the  head  of  the  home,  acting  not  as  a 


1 68  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

brutal  tyrant  or  selfish  despot,  but  as  one  who 
because  he  is  strong  surrenders  himself,  and  who 
because  he  is  large-minded,  large-hearted,  sacri- 
fices himself,  there  you  see  a  real  head  of  the 
home,  whom  all  reverence  and  gladly  obey.  Oh, 
if  the  husbands,  the  heads  of  our  homes,  were  only 
Christ-like  men,  men  who  rely  not  on  external 
authority  or  external  force,  but  on  the  authority 
and  power  which  belong  to  loving  self-sacrifice, 
believe  me,  almost  all  the  domestic  discord  and 
confusion  which  so  abound  would  disappear  !  In 
this,  as  in  all  things,  influence,  success,  greatness, 
are  to  be  gained  and  learned  at  the  feet  of  the 
great  Master,  who  laid  down  the  rule  of  all  head- 
ship and  leadership  when  He  said,  *'  Let  him  that 
would  be  greatest  do  ministry  and  service;  even 
as  the  Son  of  man  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto, 
but  to  minister,  and  to  give  His  life  a  ransom  for 
many." 

Nor  is  the  wife,  the  husband's  consort,  exempt 
from  this  discipline  of  self-sacrificing  love.  Such 
service,  indeed,  the  fond  mother-heart  of  woman  is 
quick  to  render,  and  therein  lies  the  hiding  of  her 
power.  But  this  service  is  due  not  to  children 
only,  but  to  the  husband  as  weU.  And  this  is  to 
be  shown  not  only  in  those  gentle  ministries  of 
the  home  which  every  good  wife  is  glad  to  render, 
and  in  the  rendering  of  which  her  true  queenship 
lies,  but  it  is  to  be  shown  likewise  in  the  rever- 
ence which  she  ought  always  to  feel  toward  the 
husband.  It  was  not  for  nothing  that  the  apostle, 
in  bidding  the  husband  love  and  cherish  his  wife, 


HOME. 


169 


adds  the  injunction,  "  And  let  the  wife  see  that 
she  reverence  her  husband."  I  know,  indeed,  that 
there  often  seems  to  be  httle  or  nothing  to  rever- 
ence ;  and  yet  to  the  true  wife  there  must  ahvays 
be  something  even  in  the  weakest  and  most  un- 
worthy. Just  as  the  true  son  ahvays  sees  some- 
thing to  venerate  in  his  mother,  and  the  true 
husband  ahvays  sees  something  to  love  in  his  wife, 
so  does  the  true  wife  ahvays  see  something  to 
reverence  in  that  manhood  which  God  has  given 
to  her  in  her  husband.  And  whensoever  the  wife 
acts  on  this  principle  she  calls  out  what  is  noblest 
in  her  husband.  She  helps  to  make  him  like  a 
prince,  because  with  loving  eyes  she  looks  on  him 
as  a  prince.  She  helps  to  make  him  like  a  king, 
because  she  expects  him  to  act  like  a  king.  Nay, 
each  can  help  to  make  the  other  what  each  be- 
lieves the  other  to  be;  and  as  the  years  roll  on 
they  grow  more  like  each  other  and  dearer  to  each 
other  in  the  tender  bonds  of  wedded  love. 

So,  likewise,  the  true  basis  on  which  parental 
authority  over  children  rests,  is  the  great  fact  of 
the  fatherhood  of  God.  It  is  only  when  parents 
look  up  and  study  that  Divine  fatherhood,  —  a 
fatherhood  which  wills  the  perfection  of  the  chil- 
dren, and  sets  them  the  example  of  perfectness; 
a  fatherhood  that  knows  how  to  hear  and  answer 
prayer,  and  to  give  all  good  things  to  those  that 
ask;  nay,  a  fatherhood  that  knows  how  to  give 
itself  in  utter  self-sacrifice,  the  measure  of  whose 
love  is  the  cross,  —  it  is  only  when  parents  know 
how  to  study  and  catch  the  spirit  of  this  father- 


IJO  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

hood  that  they  know  how  both  to  rule  and  care 
for  their  children.  To  such  parental  authority  I 
need  not  say  that  children  ought  to  be  altogether 
obedient  in  all  things.  To  such  fatherhood  and 
motherhood  most  children  are  in  glad  subjection. 
But  in  all  cases  the  duty  of  the  child  to  be  in  sub- 
jection and  to  obey  in  all  things  lawful  is  absolute. 
The  true  discipline  of  the  home,  while  tender  and 
loving,  should  never  tolerate  disobedience.  The 
rule  of  the  household  ought  never  to  be  despotic. 
The  utmost  care  should  be  exercised  never  to  re- 
quire what  is  unreasonable,  and  not  to  require  too 
much.  But  of  this  the  parents  must  be  the  judge, 
and  children  should  be  lovingly  trained  in  com- 
plete obedience.  The  characteristic  sin  of  child- 
hood is  disobedience,  and  it  includes  and  leads  on 
to  all  other  sins.  But  obedience  is  the  crown  and 
grace  of  childhood,  without  which  no  child  can 
learn  to  be  strong  and  great;  without  which  no 
child  can  be  lovable  or  lovely. 

These  general  considerations  show  plainly  what 
the  proper  education  is  that  belongs  to  the  Chris- 
tian home.  The  Christian  home  is  a  school  where- 
in the  parents  as  well  as  the  children  learn  divine 
things,  not  simply  or  chiefly  from  any  didactic 
teaching,  but  from  the  harmonious  working  of 
these  relations  of  headship,  fatherhood,  mother- 
hood, sonship,  all  chastened  and  ennobled  by  the 
loving  self-sacrifice  which  pervades  the  Christian 
home.  There  are  some  aspects  of  those  sublime 
truths,  God's  fatherhood,  Christ's  headship,  the 
wisdom   and   power  of  the   cross,  that   never   can 


HOME.  171 

be  learned  except  as  they  are  disclosed  in  the 
experiences  of  the  Christian  household.  Such 
truths  are  not  taught  didactically,  but  are  learned 
experimentally,  —  absorbed,  as  it  were,  into  the 
thought  and  feeling  of  all  its  inmates,  and  made 
part  of  their  very  life.  Therefore  it  is  that  the 
home  is  not  only  a  school  but  a  church.  In  its 
sanctuary  all  the  most  blessed  truths  of  our  holy 
religion  are  enshrined,  and  around  the  altar  of  its 
hearthstone  its  most  benign  influence  is  shed,  to 
fit  and  train  all  who  gather  there,  not  only  for  the 
duties  of  time,  but  also  for  the  dignities  and  labors 
of  eternity.  Therefore,  so  much  depends  on  the 
religious  life  of  the  home,  —  not  merely  on  its  re- 
ligious teaching,  but  its  religious  life,  —  so  much, 
that  if  this  be  right  nothing  else  oan  be  wholly 
wrong;  so  much,  that  if  this  be  wrong  nothing 
else  can  be  altogether  right. 

In  the  next  place,  let  me  speak  just  a  word,  in 
passing,  of  the  dangers  which  beset  it.  I  continue 
to  speak  of  the  Christian  home.  One  trembles  to 
think  how  frail  and  uncertain  the  foundation  on 
which  the  unchristian  home  must  rest.  We  grieve, 
but  we  do  not  wonder,  when  such  homes,  with  all 
their  treasures,  rush  down  to  hideous  ruin.  But 
the  Christian  home.  Let  me  speak  of  three  only 
of  the  dangers  which  assail  it,  —  care,  worldliness, 
and  passion.     Just  a  word  of  each  of  these. 

And  first,  of  care.  The  lives  of  all  earnest  men 
are  full  of  care.  Perhaps  at  no  time  in  the  world's 
history  has  the  care  of  life  set  more  heavily  upon 
the  workers  and  thinkers  of  the  world  than  it  does 


1/2  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

to-day.  Much  of  this  care,  no  doubt,  is  fruitless 
and  needless.  The  remedy  for  it  is  the  cheerful- 
ness that  is  born  of  inward  peace.  But  much  of 
the  care  of  business  and  of  thought  is  inevitable  in 
this  busy  age.  Men  have  to  toil  and  struggle  to 
keep  their  place  while  the  busy  world  is  moving. 
There  is  one  thing  that  can  be  done,  however,  and 
that  is,  we  can  keep  care  away  from  the  sacred 
precincts  of  the  home.  When  the  husband  and 
father  enters  its  portal  he  should  always  leave  his 
cares  behind  him,  and  mingle  with  its  joys  with 
a  light  and  happy  heart.  For  lack  of  just  this, 
many  a  home  that  would  otherwise  be  happy  is 
dark  and  desolate.  The  knitted  brow  of  care  will 
sadden  and  darken  the  brightest  home.  And  this 
is  true  of  the  wife  as  well  as  the  husband.  How 
many  Marthas  make  their  home  unhappy  while 
they  are  cumbered  with  much  serving!  How 
many  destroy  the  peace  and  blessedness  of  home 
because  they  are  careful  and  troubled  about  many 
things  ! 

Even  more  fatal  to  the  peace  and  safety  of  the 
home  is  worldliness,  —  the  worldliness  of  the  hus- 
band which  takes  him  away  from  his  home  in  the 
calm  evenings,  which  ought  as  a  rule  to  be  hal- 
lowed and  sanctified  there,  to  be  spent  at  his 
counting-room,  or  at  some  place  of  amusement, 
or  at  his  club.  Men  who  make  this  the  rule  of 
their  lives  soon  abdicate  the  true  headship  of  their 
homes;  nay,  they  often  break  up  their  homes  or 
desolate  them  altogether.  But  even  worse  is  the 
worldliness  of  the  wife.     Why  need  I  speak  of  it? 


HOME.  1 73 

Let  me  rather  say  this:  No  woman  is  fit  to  be 
the  queen  that  she  ought  to  be  in  her  own  house- 
hold, who  does  not,  no  matter  what  her  station 
may  be,  find  her  chief  pleasure  and  count  her 
chief  deHght  in  the  employments  and  endearments 
of  her  home. 

And  lastly,  passion.  Not  to  speak  of  its  darker 
aspects,  —  the  fretful,  peevish,  irascible,  ungovern- 
able temper,  the  hasty  word,  the  harsh  unloving 
look,  the  little  neglects,  the  little  unkindnesses,  — 
oh,  how  often  do  these  break  up  the  peace,  and 
finally  desolate  the  home !  Therefore  there  is 
need  of  prayer  in  the  home.  Therefore  there  is 
need  that  the  fire  of  sacrifice  should  be  always 
kept  burning  on  its  altars.  In  order  to  keep  these 
lurking  demons,  care,  worldliness,  and  passion, 
from  stealing  in  to  work  woful  mischief  there, 
there  is  need  that  the  husband  should  be  a  man 
of  God,  that  the  wife  should  be  a  woman  of  prayer, 
and  that  the  children  should  be  trained  in  the  ways 
and  walks  of  godliness,  and  be  brought  up  in  the 
nurture  and  admonition  of  the   Lord. 

But  when  this  is  so,  then  we  see  the  blessedness 
of  a  Christian  home.  How  shall  I  try  to  describe 
it?  With  what  words  shall  I  attempt  to  tell  of  its 
beatitude?  Beneath  its  shelter  alone  can  the  care- 
worn toiler  and  thinker  lay  his  heavy  burden  down  ; 
in  its  calm  haven  alone  can  the  weary  or  storm- 
tossed  spirit  find  rest.  All  the  precious  things,  or 
almost  all,  that  the  heart  can  really  care  for  are 
there.  Among  its  household  words  are  all  the 
fond  terms  of  endearment  that   constitute    affec- 


174  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

tion's  native  speech.  There  the  hands  that  do 
the  toil  and  wield  the  power  of  the  world  become 
loving  and  tender  in  blessing.  There  the  voices 
that  command  the  applause  of  listening  senates, 
or  raise  the  shout  among  the  captains  of  the 
world's  warfare,  become  soft  and  gentle  in  bene- 
diction. There  man  is  seen  at  his  noblest,  for 
there  in  gracious  courtesy  and  service  he  acts  the 
king.  There  woman  is  seen  at  her  loveliest  and 
best,  for  there  she  is  what  the  loving  God  gave 
her  to  man  to  be,  —  a  helpmeet  and  a  queen. 
There  among  the  children  of  the  household  are 
to  be  seen  the  future  rulers  and  toilers,  the  thinkers 
and  workers,  who  are  going  to  make  this  old  world 
fairer  and  better  than  ever  we  have  made  it ;  and 
in  their  very  laughter  and  prattle  we  elders  hear 
the  sweeter,  richer  music  of  the  coming  years. 
But  let  me  hasten  on.  No  words  of  mine  can 
tell,  and  no  words  of  mine  are  needed  to  tell,  the 
blessedness  that  belongs  to  that  one  dear  spot 
called  home.  Oh,  doubly  dear  it  may  be  to  those 
who  have  it  not,  but  only  remember  its  blessed- 
ness; and  dearest  of  all  it  may  be  to  those  who 
look  forward  to  the  renewal  and  the  fulfilment  of 
its  joy  in  heaven ! 


SERMON  VIII. 

MY  NEIGHBOR.! 

If  ye  fulfil  the  royal  law  according  to  the  scripture,  Thou 
shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself,  ye  do  well  :  But  if  ye  have 
respect  to  persons,  ye  commit  sin,  and  are  convinced  of  the  law  as 
transgressors.  —  St.  James  ii.  8,  9. 

THE  good  old  word  *'  neighbour  "  has  a  mean- 
ing of  its  own  that  is  pecuHar  to  our  Eng- 
Hsh  speech.  Like  the  word  "  home,"  it  enshrines 
a  tradition  and  stands  for  a  history.  It  has  there- 
fore a  monumental  interest  which  entitles  it  to 
attentive  study.  It  means,  as  you  know,  one 
who,  because  he  lives  in  a  near  dwelling  or  home, 
is  specially  related  to  us ;  and  upon  the  relation 
which  it  signifies  there  have  been  builded  more 
than  one  of  the  institutions  of  Anglo-Saxon  civil 
society.  From  its  earliest  times  among  that  people 
the  bond  between  neighbors  was  so  definite  and 
intimate  that  in  the  eye  of  the  law  one  neighbor 
was  held  to  be  responsible  for  the  security  and 
well-being  of  another.  If  a  man  was  murdered, 
the  neighbors  were  in  the  first  instance  accounted 
responsible ;  and  it  was  only  when  they  had  purged 
themselves  by  finding  and  convicting  the  real  mur- 
derer, that  they  were  held  to  be  acquitted  of  their 

1  Preached  in  Christ  Church,  Detroit,  on  the  morning  of  the 
Third  Sunday  in  Advent,  18S5. 


1/6  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

responsibility.  So  also  In  case  of  dispute  or  dis- 
agreement between  any  two  neighbors,  twelve  or 
more  of  the  other  neighbors  were  summoned  as  an 
assize  to  determine  the  matter.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  it  was  upon  this  ancient  custom  that  our  great 
institution  of  trial  by  jury  was  founded ;  and  it  is 
upon  the  same  custom,  the  same  ancient  and 
sacred  bond  of  neighborhood,  that  what  may  be 
called  the  very  corner-stone  of  our  public  liberty 
rests,  —  that  is,  the  right  and  the  duty  of  local  self- 
government  in  all  matters  not  expressly  delegated 
to  the  national  power.  If  time  permitted  and 
occasion  required,  it  might  be  shown  that  in  mak- 
ing much  of  this  relation  of  neighborhood,  instead 
of  the  tribal  relation  of  kindred  or  clanship  on  the 
one  hand,  and  of  association  of  trades  or  industrial 
classes  on  the  other,  our  English  civilization  early 
emerged  out  of  the  merely  tribal  state  which  has 
generally  distinguished  Keltic  people,  and  from 
the  first  made  its  protest  against  all  kinds  of 
socialism  and  its  kindred  imperialism ;  and  that 
from  the  first  it  formed  the  unit  of  civil  society 
in  the  home,  and  recognized  only  those  civil 
bonds  that  bind  the  family  to  those  which  stand 
around  it  as  neighbors.  Suffice  It  to  say  that  the 
result  has  been  the  building  up  of  a  civilization 
unique  in  the  world's  history,  —  a  civilization  In 
which  the  liberty  of  the  individual  is  preserved 
entire  because  it  is  defined  on  every  side  by  the 
same  limitations  of  neighborliness  that  limit  and 
support  every  other  man ;  that  therefore  the  Eng- 
lish-speaking   people    of  the   world    have    always 


A/V  NEIGHBOR, 


177 


been  at  once  loyal  and  free,  because  loyalty  has 
begun  at  the  fireside  and  has  spread  thence  from 
neighbor  to  neighbor  till  all  the  nation  has  been 
bound  together  in  one  bond ;  and  that  because 
this  bond  has  been  produced  from  within  instead 
of  being  imposed  from  without,  it  leaves  manhood 
unimpaired  and  unfettered  by  law,  and  freedom 
but  another  name  for  duty.  And  when  upon  this 
natural  relation  the  vitalizing  influence  of  Chris- 
tianity was  brought  to  bear,  the  result  has  been 
the  formation  of  that  peculiar  institution  among 
English-speaking  peoples,  and  especially  in  our 
own  land,  which  is  called  by  the  name  of  society. 

If,  however,  we  go  back  of  these  considerations 
to  first  principles,  we  find  that  the  enactment  on 
which  all  human  society  rests  is  the  royal  law 
given  by  God  himself  and  re-enacted  by  his 
Son :  '*  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with 
all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all 
thy  mind.  This  is  the  first  and  great  command- 
ment. And  the  second  is  like  unto  it:  Thou  shalt 
love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself"  This,  added  to  that 
unwritten  law  of  man's  nature  called  the  societatis 
appetitus,  is  itself  the  enactment  of  that  social  econ- 
omy which  after  all  these  years  and  in  this  land  of 
ours  is  destined  to  attain,  we  believe,  to  its  fairest 
fulfilment  in  Christian  society.  There  is  a  singular 
expression  of  this  royal  law  as  first  given  by 
Moses,  then  re-enacted  by  Jesus,  and  finally  as 
expounded  by  Saint  James,  which  is  very  signifi- 
cant. In  Leviticus,  the  Hebrew  word  which  is 
translated  neighbor  means  companion,  friend,  as- 

12 


178  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

sociate,  equal.  When  Jesus  re-enacted  it,  and  His 
words  were  translated  into  the  Greek  language,  the 
word  which  is  given  as  neighbor  means  much  the 
same  as  our  English  word,  —  that  is,  a  7iear  dzvcller. 
And  this  larger  meaning  of  the  word  and  of  the 
command  Saint  James  further  expounds  and  en- 
forces when  he  says,  *'  If  ye  fulfil  the  royal  law 
according  to  the  Scripture,  Thou  shalt  love  thy 
neighbor  as  thyself,  ye  do  well:  But  if  ye  have 
respect  to  persons,  ye  commit  sin,  and  are  con- 
vinced of  the  law  as  transgressors."  Now,  then, 
taking  this  royal  law  as  thus  expounded,  let  us 
see  how  it  enacts  the  establishment  and  requires 
the  perfection  of  that  peculiar  Christian  economy 
which  we  call  society. 

That  man  should  enter  into  some  kind  of  social 
relation  with  those  about  him,  is  indeed  a  neces- 
sity of  his  nature.  For  he  is  a  social  being,  and  it 
is  only  in  the  mutual  amenities  and  exchange  of 
social  intercourse  that  his  happiness  finds  its  com- 
pleteness. The  issue  of  this  natural  impulse,  un- 
guided  by  religion,  may  be  registered  in  friend- 
ship,—  an  attachment  to  friends  accompanied  by 
hatred  to  enemies.  Among  all  heathen  people 
and  all  barbarous  tribes  there  has  been,  there- 
fore, no  lack  of  friendship,  just  as  there  has  been 
no  lack  of  savage  hate,  and  the  one  has  usually 
been  commensurate  with  the  other.  There  is  no 
time  now  to  consider  the  inadequacy  of  this  natu- 
ral impulse  alone  to  hold  society  together.  Beau- 
tiful and  gracious  as  natural  friendship  is,  it  is  too 
limited  in  its  extent,  too  dependent  on  the  pecu- 


MY  NEIGHBOR. 


179 


Harities  of  individuals,  too  frail  and  uncertain  in 
its  tenure,  to  constitute  a  basis  sufficiently  broad 
and  enduring  on  which  society  may  securely  rest. 
There  must  be  a  larger,  nobler  principle  which 
shall  take  this  impulse  and  extend  its  action  far 
beyond  its  natural  limits.  And  this  is  to  be  found 
in  that  royal  law  enacted  by  God  and  re-enacted  by 
Christ :  "  Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with 
all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all 
thy  mind.  This  is  the  first  and  great  command- 
ment. And  the  second  is  like  unto  it,  Thou  shalt 
love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself." 

You  will  observe,  then,  that  love  to  one's  neigh- 
bor is  here  likened  to  love  to  God.  This  discloses 
the  great  truth  that  is  founded  on  it,  and  is  meas- 
ured by  it.  Let  us  try,  then,  to  get  at  the  prin- 
ciple on  which  love  to  God  must  rest,  and  this 
will  be  the  principle  of  love  to  our  neighbor. 
Why,  then,  should  we  love  God  with  heart  and 
mind  and  soul  and  strength?  It  is  because  in 
God  man  finds  the  ideals  which  are  the  proto- 
types of  all  that  is  noble  in  himself,  and  which 
therefore  he  must  love  if  he  would  be  true  to  his 
own  better  nature  and  higher  destiny.  It  is  in 
the  fact  that  man  was  made  in  God's  image  that 
we  find  his  supreme  obligation  to  love  God.  It  is 
impossible  for  him  not  to  love  such  an  ideal  with- 
out turning  from  his  true  destiny,  renouncing  his 
eternal  birthright,  abjuring  his  glorious  mission. 
For  man  not  to  love  God  with  all  his  heart  and 
soul  and  mind  is  degradation.  For  man,  whose 
heart  was  formed  for  love,  not  to  love  the   great 


l8o  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

heart  of  the  Everlasting  Love ;  for  man,  whose 
soul  was  fashioned  in  God's  image  and  bidden 
to  aspire  to  His  likeness,  not  to  adore  the  great 
Soul  of  all  things ;  for  man,  whose  mind  is  the 
faint  reflection  of  the  Divine  Mind,  not  to  worship 
the  Eternal  Majesty,  to  whose  thought  all  things 
are  present,  —  is  to  be  something  less  or  other  than 
a  man.  It  was  therefore  but  the  statement  of  our 
everlasting  truth  when  Christ  said,  To  do  this  is  the 
first  and  great  commandment.  But  immediately 
he  adds.  The  second  is  like  unto  it,  and  that  the 
two  together  fill  up  the  whole  range  of  human 
duty.  "  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself." 
Now,  then,  it  is  in  the  likeness  of  the  second  com- 
mandment to  the  first  that  its  supreme  obligation 
lies ;  and  this  we  must  consider  for  a  moment,  for 
it  is  the  basis  of  all  Christian  society. 

The  obligation  of  man  to  love  his  neighbor  as 
himself  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  is  in  his  neighbor 
that  man  gets  his  clearest  revelation  of  God,  — 
more  clear  than  any  revelation  in  words,  more 
clear  than  any  revelation  in  works.  It  is  in  the 
soul  of  man  when  looked  at  with  the  eyes  of 
neighborliness  that  man  gets  his  best  vision  of 
the  majesty  and  beauty  of  God.  Spite  of  all  the 
defilements  of  sin,  spite  of  all  the  disfigurements 
of  selfishness  and  worldliness,  it  is  in  man's  regal 
nature  of  heart,  soul,  and  mind  that  we  catch  our 
best  vision  of  God.  When  we  begin  to  look  at  it 
in  this  way,  we  see  that  loving  men  is  a  religious 
thing.  It  is  a  religious  thing  so  to  love  men  as 
to  delight  to  meet  them  and  mingle  with  them  in 


A/V  NEIGHBOR.  l8l 

society.  To  be  able  to  look  with  open  vision  on 
Nature's  grand  and  lovely  forms,  and  to  see  and 
love  the  ideal  beyond  or  behind  them,  is  esteemed 
a  precious  gift.  So  also  to  find  a  joy  in  the  flow- 
ers, a  delight  in  the  morning,  a  pensive  ecstasy  in 
the  light  of  setting  suns  ;   to  feel  with  the  poet,  — 

"  There  is  a  pleasure  in  the  pathless  woods, 
There  is  a  rapture  on  the  lonely  shore, 
There  is  society,  where  none  intrudes. 
By  the  deep  sea,  and  music  in  its  roar." 

But  far  above  this  gift  is  the  precious,  the  divine 
gift  of  loving  men  and  taking  delight  in  their  com- 
pany. To  love  men  as  men,  not  for  what  they 
have  nor  for  what  they  think  or  know,  but  to  love 
them  because  they  are  made  in  God's  image,  and 
because  in  them  man  gets  his  only  open  vision  of 
the  great  archetypal  mind,  soul,  heart,  —  thought, 
goodness,  love,  —  oh,  this  is  one  of  the  grand 
things  for  man  to  do  !  Next  to  loving  God,  it  is 
the  grandest  thing  for  a  man  to  do ;  and  the  su- 
preme obligation  to  do  this  is  the  basis  of  all 
Christian  society. 

Now,  then,  in  the  light  of  these  considerations 
let  us  think  for  a  few  moments —  first,  of  the  dig- 
nity and  discipline  of  society;  then  of  the  edu- 
cational influence  of  society ;  then  of  the  dangers 
that  beset  society;  and  finally  of  the  blessedness 
of  true  Christian  society. 

And  first,  of  the  dignity  and  discipline  that  be- 
long to  it.  If  we  take  society  now  as  we  know  it, 
the  social  intercourse  of  Christian  men  and  women 
under  well-known    rules  of  politeness    and    good 


1 82  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MA  AT. 

manners,  we  find  that  it  has  a  dignity  of  its  own 
that  entitles  it  to  be  considered  one  of  the  loftiest 
results  of  Christian  civilization.  Society  in  this 
sense  is  peculiar  to  the  Christian  nations.  The 
heathen  have  not  and  never  had  anything  like  it. 
At  this  moment  there  is  nothing  to  correspond  to 
it  in  China  or  Japan,  In  Turkey  or  Egypt,  or  in  any 
non-Christian  land,  just  as  there  was  nothing  like 
it  in  imperial  Rome,  or  cultured  Athens,  or  learned 
Alexandria.  And  even  among  Christian  peoples 
it  has  been  of  comparatively  recent  development. 
It  existed  only  in  the  most  rudimentary  form  In 
the  early  centuries  of  our  era,  and  in  the  Middle 
Ages.  Chivalry  was  only  a  splendid  prophecy  of 
what  it  was  to  be,  but  nothing  more.  It  was  not 
till  comparatively  recent  times  that  the  great  com- 
monwealth of  men  and  women  which  we  now  call 
society  was  organized  in  the  civilized  world ;  and 
even ' now  It  is  only  among  the  English-speaking 
peoples  and  their  congeners  that  It  has  attained  a 
free  development.  Among  the  Latin  and  Gaulish 
races,  for  instance,  there  Is  such  distrust  of  women, 
and  such  jealous  restrictions  are  placed  upon  her, 
that  the  free  intercourse  of  polite  society  in  our 
sense  of  the  word  is  Impossible.  Finally,  it  may 
be  said  that  of  all  the  English-speaking  peoples, 
society  has  attained  or  may  attain  among  us  its 
noblest  form ;  because  here  we  are  free  from  the 
degenerating  effect  of  a  merely  hereditary  and 
titled  aristocracy.  Society,  in  a  word,  is  here  left 
free  to  rest  on  that  great  enactment  which  God 
has  made,  which  is  binding  on  all  alike,  and  which 


A/V  NEIGHBOR.  1 83 

urges  man  by  the  loftiest  sanction  known  to  mind 
or  heart  to  love  his  neighbor.  Hence,  we  have 
the  great  commonwealth  of  Christian  society,  —  a 
commonwealth  which  has  its  own  gentle  and  gra- 
cious laws ;  its  silent  tribunals  which  noiselessly 
but  unerringly  enforce  them ;  its  dignities,  its  hon- 
ors, its  joys,  its  labors,  its  duties,  its  delights,  the 
movements  of  which  constitute  the  characteristic 
economy  of  modern  civilized  life. 

Now,  the  discipline  of  it  will  be  apparent  when 
it  is  considered  that  the  one  principle  which  regu- 
lates it  throughout  is  self-sacrifice.  It  is  a  great 
truth  that  the  principle  of  the  cross  underlies  all 
good  manners.  Self-denial,  self-control,  self-sacri- 
fice, the  very  essence  of  Christianity,  are  actually 
put  into  practice  in  the  behavior  of  good  society. 
Men  must  restrain  their  baser  impulses  and  in- 
stincts. Selfishness,  if  it  exist  at  all,  must  at  least 
be  dissembled  or  concealed.  Self-assertion  must 
be  abandoned.  No  man  can  even  seem  to  be  a 
gentleman  who  does  not  put  into  practice  those 
principles  of  the  cross  of  Christ  which  the  gospel 
commends  to  us ;  and  no  man  can  really  be  a  gen- 
tleman unless  he  have  those  principles  in  his  heart. 
Therefore  it  may  be  said  that  Jesus  was  the  first 
gentleman  in  all  the  world  after  Adam  fell ;  and 
still  the  only  way  to  become  a  real  gentleman  is 
to  take  Jesus  for  a  model.  The  discipline  of  polite 
society,  therefore,  is  of  much  importance  in  the 
culture  of  the  Christian  life,  since  it  is  the  actual 
putting  into  practice  of  its  principles,  which  like 
all   principles   cannot   be   fully  appropriated    until 


1 84  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

we  use  them.  Therefore  it  is  that  the  Christian 
man  who  moves  among  his  fellow-men  in  social 
intercourse  is  so  much  nobler,  grander  a  man  than 
the  recluse,  the  hermit,  the  monk,  the  dweller  in 
a  cloister.  The  solitary  man  or  woman  is  almost 
sure  to  be  self-willed,  self-centred,  lacking  in  the 
finished  grace  of  the  Christian  life.  The  monas- 
tery, the  nunnery,  the  cloister,  the  hermitage,  are 
not  favorable  to  the  development  of  the  highest 
Christian  character.  The  best  field  for  the  exercise 
of  the  Christian  virtues,  next  to  the  Christian  home, 
is  to  be  found  in  the  walks,  the  employments, 
the  innocent  pleasures,  the  gracious  and  generous 
courtesies  that  belong  to  Christian  society. 

These  considerations  leave  but  little  to  be  said 
of  the  educational  influence  of  society.  As  I  have 
already  intimated,  we  learn  in  social  intercourse 
some  divine  things  that  we  could  not  otherwise 
learn.  Nay,  we  look  upon  the  Divine  in  the  hu- 
man, and  through  the  human  we  learn  to  love  the 
Divine.  *'  If  any  man  love  not  his  brother  whom 
he  hath  seen,  how  can  he  love  God  whom  he  hath 
not  seen?"  What  a  book  is  the  mind  of  man! 
What  a  mystery  is  the  human  heart !  In  Christian 
society  we  study  the  deepest  mysteries  of  the  hu- 
man soul,  we  may  bend  over  the  fairest  pages  of 
human  thought.  To  see  Christian  men  and  women 
at  their  best;  to  turn  toward  them  the  best  side  of 
our  nature ;  to  abjure  pride  ;  to  banish  self-seeking 
and  selfishness ;  to  follow,  if  only  for  an  hour,  lofty 
ideals ;  to  enjoy  the  bright  flashes  of  wit,  the  sus- 
tained delight  of  high  converse ;    to  think  not  of 


MV  NEIGHBOR.  1 85 

self,  but  of  others,  and  to  lose  one's  self  in  gracious 
ministry  to  others,  —  this  of  itself  ought  to  be  an 
educating,  elevating,  ennobhng  employment,  which 
would  train  man  for  ideal  pursuits  both  here  and 
hereafter.  Ought  to  be,  will  be,  provided  society 
be  kept  pure,  simple,  high-minded,  in  all  respects 
what  it  ought  to  be. 

And  this  brings  me  to  my  next  topic,  —  the 
dangers  which  beset  society.  Here  again  I  must 
be  very  brief.  Time  does  not  permit  me  even  to 
enumerate  more  than  three  of  them.  These  three 
shall  be,  selfishness,  worldliness,  unreality.  And 
first,  of  selfishness.  Enough  has  been  already 
said  to  show  that  selfishness  is  really  incompati- 
ble with  all  good  manners,  and  is  therefore  the 
foe  to  all  society.  But  there  is  a  more  subtle 
selfishness,  which,  while  it  does  not  express  itself 
in  unmannerliness,  is  nevertheless  just  as  really 
unmannerly.  I  mean  the  selfishness  which  is  al- 
ways seeking  its  own  good,  its  own  advancement, 
its  own  advantage,  in,  through,  or  by  means  of 
society.  Surely  I  need  not  characterize  this  base, 
sordid,  ignoble  temper  or  disposition  which  so 
abounds  in  the  world,  among  the  poor  just  as 
much  as  among  the  rich.  This  it  is  which  so 
often  makes  society  a  mere  vulgar  competition, 
hospitality  a  mere  sham  and  bargain,  like  the  pub- 
licans giving  merely  to  receive  as  much  again. 
Akin  to  this  danger,  and  no  less  base  and  sordid, 
is  the  frivolous  or  calculating  worldliness  which 
makes  society  a  mere  means  of  vulgar  and  pre- 
tentious  display,  —  a  display  which   excludes  the 


1 86  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

poor,  which  ahenates  classes,  which  works  ruin 
to  many  a  household,  and  which  like  a  dry-rot 
soon  makes  the  society  where  it  prevails  a  mere 
sham. 

This  brings  me  to  the  mention  of  the  last  dan- 
ger, unreality.  In  society  it  is  so  easy  to  be  unreal ; 
to  pretend  to  feel  more  than  one  does  feel ;  to  seem 
glad  when  one  is  not  glad,  and  sorry  when  one  is 
not  sorry ;  to  say  smooth  and  false  things,  because 
smooth  and  false  things  are  so  easy  to  be  said. 
What  is  the  remedy?  I  answer,  a  return  to  the 
great  first  principle  on  which  society  is  founded, — 
love  to  one's  neighbor  because  he  is  a  neighbor, 
the  man  whom  God  has  given  to  you  to  care  for ; 
who,  because  his  home  is  near  you,  you  are  related 
to  him  ;  who,  because  he  is  a  man,  a  regal  creature, 
made  in  God's  image,  in  whose  nature  you  can  see 
some  vision  of  God,  him,  therefore,  ye  ought  to 
love.  Oh,  to  love  one's  neighbor,  not  for  what  he 
has,  not  for  what  he  thinks  or  knows,  not  for  what 
one  may  gain  by  it,  but  to  love  him  because  he  is 
a  child  of  God,  —  this  is  the  royal  law,  the  keeping 
of  which  is  to  be  royal,  to  do  well !  Oh,  if  our 
men  and  women  could  only  rise  up  to  the  height 
of  this  great  argument,  then  indeed  would  society 
be  purged  of  ail  its  meanness  and  frivolity,  and 
guarded  from  the  manifold  dangers  which  beset 
it!  Society  would  simply  be  Christianity  in  its 
holiday  attire,  —  none  the  less  pious,  none  the  less 
faithful,  because  joyous  and  glad.  "  Therefore,  love 
is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law."  If  there  be  any  other 
commandment,  it  is  briefly  comprehended  in  this 


MV  NEIGHBOR.  1 8/ 

saying,  namely,  ''  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as 
thyself." 

More  than  two  thousand  years  ago  there  lived 
a  sage  in  a  far  Eastern  land.  The  people  of  his 
nation  were  rude  and  barbarous;  the  days  in  which 
his  lot  was  cast  were  very  evil.  The  great  thought 
rose  up  in  his  heart  that  he  would  redeem  the  time 
and  save  his  people.  But  he  knew  not  God.  He 
only  knew  man,  or  as  much  of  man  as  one  who 
is  without  the  thought  of  God  can  know.  So  he 
took  the  half-truth  which  he  did  know,  and  upon 
it  he  constructed  his  great  philosophy.  He  made 
religion  to  consist  altogether  of  good  manners ;  and 
to  this  day  one  third  of  the  human  race  venerate 
the  sage  Confucius  and  accept  his  philosophy. 
Let  us  not  deride  the  great  Chinese  philosopher. 
He  was  not  altogether  wrong.  He  was  partly 
right.  The  only  secret  of  his  error  was  that  he 
did  not  know  God,  and  hence  he  could  not  base 
his  noble  precept  of  love  to  man  on  the  only  secure 
foundation  on  which  it  can  rest,  and  that  is  love  to 
God.  Five  hundred  years  later  a  greater  than  Con- 
fucius arose,  —  one  who  out  of  the  richer  treasures 
of  His  thought  brought  forth  all  wisdom  and  all 
knowledge.  He  supplied  what  Confucius  lacked, 
and  in  likening  love  of  man  to  love  of  God,  He  dis- 
'  closed  the  t^vofold  principle  of  all  religion  and  all 
society.  His  familiars  and  His  apostles  understood 
Him.  They  learned  the  mighty  secret  of  all  reli- 
gious, of  all  social,  of  all  pohtical  development,  as 
they  sat  at  His  feet.  Ages  passed  on,  —  ages  of  bar- 
barism, cruelty,  wrong.     Slowly,  surely,  the  great 


1 88  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

principles  which  he  enunciated  have  won  their  way. 
At  last  they  are  finding  in  this  age,  in  this  land,  as 
I  believe,  a  fuller,  richer  development  than  ever  be- 
fore. We  see,  with  all  the  faults  and  shortcomings 
of  our  time,  that  there  are  men  and  women  who  do 
love  God,  —  and  oh,  how  that  love  ennobles  them  ! 
—  and  do  love  men  because  they  love  God.  This 
love  of  man  is  now  organized  into  a  great  economy; 
but  many  are  using  it  mistakenly,  selfishly,  falsely. 
The  question,  then,  constantly  arises,  What  is  the 
principle  on  which  this  new  economy  of  social  in- 
tercourse ought  to  rest?  I  turn  for  an  answer  to 
the  words  of  the  great  Master.  I  read  the  exposi- 
tion of  that  answer  by  the  apostle  James,  who  sat 
at  His  feet,  and  who  calls  it  the  royal  law.  And 
then  for  the  definition  of  that  sufficing,  supreme 
love  to  God  and  man  which  is  the  code  at  once 
of  all  religion  and  all  society,  I  turn  to  the  writ- 
ings of  the  great  apostle.  Thou  shalt  love  God, 
and  therefore  thy  neighbor,  said  Jesus.  And  Paul 
the  apostle  expounds  that  love.  Listen  to  it.  Here 
is  at  once  the  code  both  of  religion  and  good 
manners,  "Though  I  speak,"  he  says,  ''with  the 
tongues  of  men  and  of  angels,  but  have  not  love^ 
I  am  become  sounding  brass,  or  a  clanging  cym- 
bal." This,  then,  is  the  principle  which  makes  a 
man  at  once  a  gentleman  and  a  Christian ;  this 
is  the  royal  law:  "Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy 
God ;  .  .  .  thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thy- 
self." 


SERMON   IX. 

BUSINESS.! 

And  that  ye  study  to  be  quiet,  and  to  do  your  own  business, 
and  to  work  with  your  own  hands  as  we  commanded  you  ;  That 
ye  may  walk  honestly  toward  them  that  are  without,  and  that  ye 
may  have  lack  of  nothing.  —  i  Thess.  iv.  ii,  12. 


1 


^HERE  is  a  word  which  has  come  to  mean 
much  in  our  daily  speech,  —  whose  meaning 
as  we  use  it  cannot  be  expressed  by  any  single  word 
in  any  other  language,  —  and  that  word  is  "  busi- 
ness." Like  "  home  "  and  *'  neighbor,"  it  enshrines 
a  tradition  and  stands  for  a  history.  There  is  not 
time  now  to  follow  the  development  of  the  word  and 
its  signification,  until,  as  at  present,  it  means  a 
vast  department  of  human  activity,  in  which  all 
the  movements  of  labor  and  commerce  are  in- 
cluded. It  now  stands  for  a  far-reaching  estate, 
which,  though  it  cannot  be  claimed  that  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  race  created  it,  has  undoubtedly  been  or- 
ganized by  English-speaking  peoples,  who  have 
made  it  the  controlling  power  in  the  modern  po- 
litical world.  The  old  sneer  that  the  English  are 
a  nation  of  shopkeepers  has  lost  its  point,  though 
not  its  truth.     More  than  all   other  secular  agen- 

1  Preached  in  Christ  Church,  Detroit,  on  the  morning  of  the 
fourth  Sunday  in  Advent,  1S85. 


igo  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

cies,  the  business  enterprise  of  the  English-speak- 
ing races  has  blessed  the  human  race.  It  has  led 
the  van  in  the  triumphal  progress  of  Christian 
civilization.  It  has  opened  up  continents,  peopled 
deserts,  and  whitened  solitary  seas  with  the  sails 
of  commerce.  Therefore  the  old  English  word 
"  business  "  has  come  to  have  a  definite  and  noble 
meaning.  It  stands  for  a  mighty  commonwealth 
wherein  men  and  nations  are  intimately  related  to 
each  other.  It  has  its  own  laws,  enacted  by  the 
Supreme  Law-giver,  which  senates  and  parliaments 
do  not  need  to  enact  and  cannot  set  aside.  It  en- 
forces these  laws  by  the  swift  and  unerring  awards 
of  success  or  failure.  It  builds  its  own  capitals 
in  many  lands  on  spots  designated  by  God  him- 
self, and  in  them  it  erects  stately  palaces  which 
far  outstrip  the  pride  and  magnificence  of  former 
ages.  It  has  its  own  leaders,  and  it  sets  one  up 
and  pulls  another  down  according  as  each  obeys 
or  disobeys  its  behests.  Kings  and  cabinets  are 
obedient  to  its  commands.  Armies  are  now  little 
more  than  its  auxiliaries,  the  hired  mercenaries 
with  which  it  protects  its  interests.  A  monarch 
surrounded  by  Oriental  pomp  in  his  Eastern  capital 
dares  to  interfere  with  the  interests  of  a  lumber 
company  in  Burmah.  An  English  expeditionary 
army  sets  out  from  Calcutta,  marches  to  Manda- 
lay,  dethrones  that  mad  and  foolish  king,  and  sees 
to  it  that  the  injured  lumber  company  shall  cut 
their  logs  of  teak  on  the  mountains  of  Burmah  in 
security  and  peace.  When  Muscovite  or  Austrian 
ambition  marshals    its  legions,   or  Moslem  fanati- 


BUSINESS.  191 

ci'sm  musters  Its  Asiatic  hordes,  the  business  Inter- 
ests of  Europe  and  the  world  call  a  halt  to  the 
fierce  armies,  and  insist  that  peace  shall  not  be 
broken,  nor  war  declared  except  as  they  shall  dic- 
tate. The  success  or  failure  of  campaigns,  of  di- 
plomacy, of  statesmanship,  is  registered  Instantly, 
in  all  the  world's  markets,  In  the  rise  or  fall  of 
prices,  in  the  establishment  or  impairment  of  busi- 
ness confidence.  And  so  It  has  come  to  pass 
that  almost  all  the  practical  concerns  of  the  world 
have  fallen  under  the  influence  of  Its  potent  mas- 
tery, and  yield  to  the  demands  and  movements  of 
business. 

When  we  go  behind  these  general  considerations, 
however,  we  find  that  this  great  commonwealth 
rests  on  God's  enactment.  When  He  commanded 
man  to  replenish  the  earth  and  subdue  it,  He  Is- 
sued His  royal  charter  to  business.  Business  means 
the  appropriation  and  subjection  of  the  world  by 
man  to  himself.  Beginning  with  agriculture,  which 
is  Its  simplest  form,  and  rising  through  all  grades 
of  industrial  and  commercial  activity,  whatsoever 
subdues  the  external  world  to  man's  will,  and 
appropriates  Its  power,  its  beauty,  its  usefulness, 
is  business ;  and  whoso  worthily  engages  in  It  is 
helping  to  carry  out  God's  design,  and  Is  so  far 
engaged  In  His  service.  To  conquer  the  earth, 
and  force  the  wild  fen  or  stony  field  to  bring  forth 
bread  to  gladden  the  heart  of  man ;  to  level  use- 
less hills,  and  say  to  obstructive  mountains.  Be  ye 
removed  from  the  path  of  progress;  to  summon 
the  lightnings  to  be  his  messengers,  and  cause  the 


192  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

viewless  winds  to  be  his  servants;  to  bring  all  the 
earth  into  subjection  to  human  will  and  human 
intelligence, — this  is  man's  earthly  calling,  and  his- 
tory is  but  the  progressive  accomplishment  of  it. 
Therefore  it  is,  that,  rightly  regarded,  business  is 
a  department  of  Christian  activity.  Therefore  it  is 
to  be  said  and  insisted  on,  that  the  worthy  busi- 
ness of  every-day  life  is  a  department  of  genuine 
Christian  culture  that  ought  to  be  pursued  with 
high  aims  and  lofty  motives,  not  only  for  what  it 
enables  man  to  do,  but  chiefly  for  what  it  enables 
man  to  be  in  the  exercise  of  his  kingly  function 
and  in  the  development  of  his  kingly  character. 

Let  us  think,  then,  for  a  few  moments  this  morn- 
ing of  the  disciplinary  and  educational  function  of 
business,  and  of  some  of  the  dangers  that  assail 
those  who  are  engaged  in  it.  The  apostle,  in 
commending  men  to  faithful  diligence  in  business, 
names  two  motives  w^hich  undoubtedly  have  played 
an  important  part  in  controlling  and  encouraging 
men,  —  ''  that  ye  may  walk  honestly  toward  them 
that  are  without,  and  that  ye  may  have  lack  of 
nothing."  To  supply  one's  daily  need,  and  to 
make  and  keep  an  honorable  place  in  the  world, 
may  not  seem  to  be  very  lofty  motives ;  but  they 
are,  at  least,  universal  in  their  operation,  and  of 
daily  urgency.  Because  men  need  food  and  cloth- 
ing and  shelter;  because  they  desire  for  them- 
selves and  their  children  comfort,  security,  plenty; 
because  the  mind  craves  books  and  painting  and 
music,  and  all  the  elegances  and  delights  which 
money  can  buy;    and  because  the  aspiring  heart 


BUSINESS. 


193 


craves  the  respect  and  admiration  of  its  fellows, — 
these  are  motives  which  have  sufficed  to  make 
some  men  toil  in  all  ages.  But  in  this  land,  of  all 
others,  these  motives  have  asserted  their  power  as 
nowhere  else,  and  made  our  people  a  nation  of 
workers.  The  intelligent  foreigner  who  comes  to 
our  shores  is  struck  with  the  anxious,  eager  look 
on  men's  faces.  All  life  is  eager,  active,  few  or 
none  despairing  of  rising  in  the  world,  and  fewer 
still  content  with  the  fortune  to  which  they  have 
already  risen.  Everything  partakes  of  this  rest- 
less, feverish  energy.  Agriculture,  manufactures, 
very  much  of  professional  life  even,  is  possessed 
and  dominated  by  the  commercial  idea  of  getting 
on.  The  vast  majority  of  our  people  do,  with 
more  or  less  assiduity,  attend  to  their  own  busi- 
ness, desiring  to  walk  honestly,  or  honorably,  to- 
ward them  that  are  without,  and  to  have  lack  of 
nothing. 

Now,  whatever  we  may  think  of  the  motives 
which  underlie  this  fact,  the  fact  itself  is  far  from 
discouraging.  At  all  events,  our  people  are  in 
earnest  about  something.  They  are  delivered  for 
the  most  part  from  the  sottishness  of  self-indul- 
gence. They  have  not  lost  their  manhood  in  the 
slavery  of  sensuality.  Whatever  their  motives  may 
be,  they  are  actually  practising  daily  and  hourly 
the  Christian  virtues  of  faith  or  foresight,  of  pru- 
dence, of  self-control,  of  self-denial,  of  temperance, 
of  uprightness.  The  characteristic  virtues  of  the 
business  world  are  Christian  virtues  every  one,  and 
in    adopting   them    men    have    acknowledged    the 

'3 


194  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

excellence  of  Christianity.  Self-indulgence  is  rec- 
ognized as  folly,  as  the  foe  to  all  happiness  and 
manliness.  Selfdenial,  self-control,  is  known  in 
the  practical  affairs  of  life  to  be  the  condition  of 
all  success.  Thus  far,  then,  men  have  learned  the 
great  lesson  of  the  cross,  and  have  taken  its  prin- 
ciples to  be  the  rules  of  business  life.  Therefore 
it  is  that  if  rightly  and  wisely  conducted  there  is 
no  better  discipline  for  the  formation  of  character 
than  business.  It  teaches  in  its  own  way  the 
peculiar  value  of  regard  for  others'  interests,  of 
spotless  integrity,  of  unimpeachable  righteousness ; 
and  the  busy  activities  of  life,  in  themselves  con- 
sidered, are  good  and  not  evil.  They  are  a  part 
of  God's  great  work,  and  are  as  much  His  ap- 
pointment as  the  services  of  praise  and  prayer.  I 
think  we  all  need  to  be  reminded  of  the  dignity 
and  sacredness  of  a  worthy  every-day  life.  God's 
kingdom  includes  more  than  the  services  of  the 
sanctuary.  The  court-house  is  his  temple  too, 
and  so  is  the  chamber  of  commerce.  It  is  just  as 
holy  a  thing  to  work  as  it  is  to  pray ;  and  the  dis- 
tribution of  commerce,  the  helpfulness  of  trade, 
the  feeding  and  sheltering  of  those  belonging  to 
you,  and  all  the  honorable  ministries  in  which 
a  high-minded  business  man  engages,  are  just  as 
truly  a  part  of  God's  service,  if  men  could  see 
and  feel  them  to  be  so,  as  is  the  function  of  the 
preacher.  I  am  not  here  to  condemn  these  things, 
or  to  deprecate  men's  earnestness  in  the  pursuit 
of  them ;  but  I  would  deepen  and  enlarge  that 
earnestness.     I  would  say  with  the  apostle,  Study 


BCrs/NESS.  1 95 

to  do  these  things  faithfully,  earnestly;  but  then 
I  add,  as  he  never  failed  to  teach,  these  things  are 
means,  not  an  end.  Their  value  lies  not  in  them- 
selves, but  in  the  discipline,  the  character,  the 
power  vi^hich  they  give  to  do  higher  things. 

The  warning  is  not  needless.  And  this  brings 
me  to  name  one  or  two  of  the  great  dangers  that 
beset  the  man  of  business.  Though  beyond  all 
question  the  business  energies  of  the  age  have 
been  reinforced  and  guided  by  the  Gospel,  until 
discipline,  temperance,  and  self-control  have  be- 
come their  permanent  characteristics,  and  though 
beyond  all  question  the  business  pursuits  of  the 
age  are  recognized  by  Christian  thinkers  and 
economists  as  departments  of  human  culture  and 
as  part  of  God's  administration  of  the  world, 
yet  business  men,  with  all  their  earnestness  and 
sagacity,  are  peculiarly  liable  to  be  blind  to  these 
high  considerations  and  ignorant  of  this  great 
economy.  There  are  two  dangers  by  which  they 
are  continually  liable  to  be  betrayed :  one  is  self- 
ishness, and  the  other  is  worldliness. 

Now,  it  may  seem  a  trite  thing  to  say,  and  yet 
it  is  not  always  taken  into  account,  that  a  busi- 
ness man  is  peculiarly  liable  to  a  special  form  of 
selfishness.  It  is  not  the  selfishness  of  ease  or 
self-indulgence,  as  we  have  seen ;  but  it  is  the  self- 
ishness of  gain,  of  profit,  of  personal  advantage. 
Profit,  of  course,  is  the  very  essence  of  success 
in  business.  It  is  the  measure  of  success,  and 
there  could  not  long  continue  to  be  business 
without   it.     Yet   the   making  of  profit  is    apt  to 


196  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

become  an  absorbing  passion  with  the  eager 
business  man  for  its  own  sake.  His  ordinary 
relations  with  men  are  apt  to  be  more  or  less 
controlled  by  it.  He  is  in  danger  of  carrying  it 
into  his  social  life,  —  of  valuing  men  and  policies 
and  principles  according  to  the  advantage  that 
may  accrue  to  him  from  his  connection  with  them. 
Such  a  man  pretty  soon  begins  to  wish  to  make 
his  association  pay,  and  his  friendships,  and  his 
politics,  and  everything  that  he  is  and  has  and 
does.  And  if  he  is  successful,  a  certain  selfish 
pride  establishes  itself  in  his  heart.  We  all  know 
this  ignoble  type  of  character.  And  then  dogging 
the  heels  of  this  selfish  pride  comes  avarice,  —  that 
amazing  and  monstrous  passion  of  the  soul  which 
loves  money  for  its  own  sake,  which  grows  on 
what  it  feeds  on,  which  never  can  be  appeased, 
which  never  has  enough.  Woe  to  the  man  who 
sinks  into  this  slavery !  And  yet  how  many  men 
there  are  who  sink  into  it  almost  unaware !  A 
young  man  begins  life  strong,  temperate,  self- 
denying,  full  of  energy  and  of  courage,  thinking 
high  thoughts,  cherishing  noble  ideals.  He  goes 
into  business.  The  excitement  of  it  pleases  him, 
the  success  of  it  fascinates  him,  the  gain  of  it  be- 
gins to  cast  its  spell  about  him.  Now,  mark  how 
such  an  one  sinks  into  its  toils.  First  he  gives 
up  the  Sunday  school.  Then  his  place  in  church 
is  empty.  Then  he  steals  off  to  his  office  and 
counting-room  on  Sunday.  Then  he  gives  up 
old  friends  one  by  one.  He  no  longer  cares  for 
society.      Men    praise    him    for    his    energy   and 


BUSINESS.  197 

success.  Then  he  begins  to  get  more  and  more 
mercenary,  but  men  still  praise  him;  more  and 
more  hard,  but  men  still  praise  him,  until  the  ac- 
cursed thirst  for  gold  becomes  the  one  passion 
his  life.  Then  he  does  not  much  care  whether 
men  praise  him  or  not,  and  soon  he  becomes  an 
Ishmaelite, —  his  hand  is  against  every  man.  To 
say  nothing  of  the  hardened  and  sordid  character 
that  this  gives  him,  it  defeats  his  career  as  a  busi- 
ness man.  The  apostle  says,  ''  Be  diligent  in  busi- 
ness, that  ye  may  walk  honorably  toward  them 
that  are  without,  and  that  ye  may  have  lack  of 
nothing."  This  man  no  longer  cares  to  walk  hon- 
orably toward  them  that  are  without,  and  has  lack 
of  everything. 

But  how  much  wiser,  even  from  his  own  point 
of  view,  it  is  for  the  man  of  business  to  guard 
against  this  danger  and  resist  it.  To  say  nothing 
of  the  deliverance  of  his  soul  from  the  bondage 
and  degradation  of  avarice,  how  much  more  would 
his  very  money  be  worth  to  him,  if  he  should  heed 
and  obey  the  gospel !  How  much  larger  his  suc- 
cess, how  much  freer,  nobler,  more  worthy,  more 
happy  his  life!  His  success  would  be  larger  as 
he  went  on,  and  would  mean  so  much  more  to 
him.  For  the  miser  becomes  a  coward  and  loses 
heart.  His  selfishness  makes  him  short-sighted, 
and  turns  all  men  against  him.  But  the  Christian 
man  of  business  not  only  succeeds  in  the  exercise 
of  the  Christian  virtues,  but  success  means  some- 
thing noble  to  him.  And  money  is  power  in  the 
hand  of  a  good  man,  and  he  gets  more  good  than 


1 98  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

he  gives,  even,  in   making  a  right  and  generous 
use  of  it. 

But  let  us  thankfully  confess  that  this  danger  is 
not  so  rife  as  it  once  was.  Our  modern  life  is  so 
full  of  demands  on  the  profit  of  business  that  there 
are  not  so  many  miserly  men  as  there  once  were. 
But  there  is  another  danger  that  was  never  so 
prevalent  as  it  is  now.  This  may  be  called  the 
worldiness  of  business.  Men  are  simply  absorbed 
and  engrossed  and  satisfied  with  their  business 
pursuits  and  business  interests,  and  so  neglect 
and  forget  their  religious  and  eternal  interests.  I 
here  speak  of  business  as  a  vast  department  of 
human  culture,  in  which  man  appropriates  what 
is  external  to  himself  If  this  world  were  the  only 
world  and  this  life  the  only  life,  then  it  might  be 
wise  and  worthy  in  man  to  devote  himself  without 
reserve  to  the  things  that  belong  only  to  this  world 
and  this  life.  But  man  is  more  than  a  denizen  of 
this  world.  He  is  more  than  an  animal  to  eat  and 
drink  and  be  clothed.  He  is  more  than  a  calcu- 
lating machine  to  puzzle  over  life's  problems.  He 
is  more  than  a  mercenary  recruit  drafted  into  the 
world's  great  army  to  fight  its  battles  of  progress. 
His  own  spirit  bears  witness  to  its  immortal  dig- 
nity and  destiny.  His  heart,  w^hlch  cannot  be  sat- 
isfied here ;  his  reason,  which  soars  above  the 
things  of  time  and  sense ;  his  conscience,  which 
bids  him  look  for  an  eternal  retribution  on  wrong- 
doing,—  his  whole  nature  pleads  trumpet-tongued 
against  the  shame  and  indignity  of  mere  worldli- 
ness.     And  yet  with  strange  inconsistency  multi- 


BUSINESS.  199 

tudes  of  business  men  make  light  of  the  wants  of 
their  immortal  souls,  and  go  their  ways  engrossed 
by  utter  worldliness. 

Yes,  they  go  their  ways,  but  their  ways  are  not 
ways  of  pleasantness,  their  paths  are  not  paths 
of  peace.  For  there  is  a  hunger  of  the  heart 
which  nothing  but  God  can  appease;  there  is  a 
thirst  of  the  soul  which  nothing  but  God  can  sat- 
isfy. "  That  ye  may  walk  honorably  toward  them 
that  are  without "  !  What  can  give  this,  spite  of 
poverty  or  wealth,  but  the  Christian  conscience 
which  is  void  of  offence  toward  man  and  God? 
"  That  ye  may  have  lack  of  nothing "  !  What 
can  assure  this  but  the  spirit  of  adoption,  which 
bears  witness  with  our  spirit  that  we  are  children 
and  heirs  of  God? 

And  now,  to  bring  this  Advent  series  of  sermons 
to  a  close,  we  have  seen  that  Christianity  has  made 
our  homes,  our  society,  our  business;  and  Chris- 
tianity alone  can  preserve  them.  In  this  fair  land, 
in  the  midst  of  this  Anglo-Saxon  civilization,  these 
institutions  have  reached,  under  the  influence  of 
Anglo-Saxon  Christianity,  their  fairest  develop- 
ment. And  what  a  noble  discipline  they  afford, 
what  a  worthy  training  they  give  to  fit  a  man  for 
the  employments,  the  dignities,  the  blessedness  of 
eternity !  It  is  this  thought  that  gives  them  all 
their  real  dignity  and  all  their  real  value.  The 
one  thought  that  redeems  this  world  from  insig- 
nificance is  the  thought  of  another.  He  only  can 
live  worthily  here  who  is  preparing  to  live  for- 
ever hereafter.     Dear  then  as  our  country  is,  we 


200  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

love  it  more,  the  more  it  grows  like  the  heavenly 
country.  Dear  as  home  is,  it  is  dearest  of  all 
when  it  is  most  like  our  heavenly  home.  Joy- 
ous and  glad  as  society  is,  it  is  most  joyous 
and  most  glad  when  it  grows  like  the  society 
of  the  redeemed,  where  there  shall  be  no  more 
sin  and  no  more  curse.  And  business  is  worthy 
of  man's  immortal  energies  only  when  it  se- 
cures for  him  and  those  whom  he  loves  the  true 
riches.  Men  and  brethren,  to  guard  our  country, 
to  hallow  our  homes,  to  purify  and  elevate  society, 
to  ennoble  business  life  and  make  it  more  worthy, 
this  is  the  function  of  Christianity,  —  the  sober, 
ethical,  practical,  home-building,  society-fostering, 
business-encouraging  Christianity  of  this  beloved 
Church,  which  directly  or  indirectly  has  been  the 
source  of  all  that  is  best  in  our  civilization,  which 
will  lead  us  on,  I  do  not  doubt,  to  still  more  glo- 
rious things  in  the  future,  but  only  on  condition 
that  it  continue,  and  even  in  larger  measure,  to  en- 
noble our  business,  to  purify  and  elevate  our  so- 
ciety, to  hallow  our  homes.  And  this  it  can  do  for 
us  and  our  children  only  as  it  ennobles,  purifies, 
hallows  our  hearts  and  our  lives. 


SERMON    X. 

REPENTANCE. 1 

From  that  time  Jesus  began  to  preach,  and  to  say,  Repent: 
for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand.  —  St.  Matt.  iv.  17. 

THE  young  Prophet  of  Nazareth  had  but  lately 
emerged  from  obscurity.  His  human  soul, 
we  may  reverently  believe,  had  but  recently  appro- 
priated fully  the  consciousness  of  His  Messianic 
character.  On  the  banks  of  the  Jordan  He  had 
been  saluted  as  the  Christ  in  the  midst  of  thousands 
of  His  countrymen,  and  he  had  been  owned  and 
blessed  by  His  Father's  voice  out  of  heaven.  Rapt 
away  by  the  Spirit  into  the  wilderness,  He  had 
meditated  His  great  career  amid  the  silences  of 
Judea's  lonely  hill-country,  and  had  won  His  three- 
fold victory  over  the  tempter.  And  now  in  the 
meek  majesty  of  His  Messiahship,  and  with  heaven 
and  its  ministering  angels  around  Him,  He  returned 
in  the  power  of  the  Spirit  into  Galilee,  and  began 
to  preach  His  gospel.  And  this  was  the  message 
which  He  uttered:  ''  Repent:  for  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  at  hand." 

We  would  naturally  suppose   that  the  first  re- 
corded word  of  Jesus'  preaching  would  mean  much. 

1  Preached  in  St.  Paul's  Church,  Detroit,  on  the  morning  of  the 
first  Sunday  in  Advent,  1886. 


202  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

All  the  circumstances  that  preceded  its  utterance, 
and  all  the  characteristics  of  the  preacher,  would 
lead  us  to  believe  that  in  this  living  word  His  pent- 
up  soul  had   found  free  deliverance.      It  was  the 
beginning  of  a  matchless  career  in  the  annals  of 
prophetic  eloquence.     Here  for  the  first  time  the 
unrivalled  orator,  who  spake  as  never  man  spake, 
opened  the  lips  that  were  full  of  grace  and  truth. 
A  new  era  in  the  history  of  souls  had  arrived,  when 
the  night  of  old  oppression  and  hoary  wrong  was 
to  be  succeeded  by  the  morning  of  gladness  and 
peace.     And  He  whose  coming  was  the  ushering 
in  of  the  age  of  gold,  stood  forth  and  spoke  with 
golden  mouth  His  first  word,  —  a  mighty,  wonder- 
working, age-transforming,  world-awakening  word. 
For  when  we  come  to  examine  it,  we  find  that  all 
our  expectations  concerning  it  are  more  than  real- 
ized.    It  was,  indeed,  the  mightiest  word  that  even 
Jesus   ever  uttered,   and  still  it  resounds  through 
the  world  like  the  peal  of  a  trumpet,  seraph  blown, 
calling  men  in  this  solemn  Advent  season  to  new- 
ness of  life.     By  a  singular  infelicity  this  first  word 
of  Jesus  has  been  completely  mistranslated  in  our 
English  Bibles.      Because    of  certain    tendencies, 
philological,  theological,  ecclesiastical,  which  there 
is  not  time  now  to  specify,  the  meaning  of  Jesus 
has  been  forced  into  a  Latin  derivative  word  which 
is  far  too  narrow  to  contain  it.      Sufifice  it  to  say 
that   the   Greek   word    which   we   translate    "  re- 
pent "  means  far  more  than  that  term  can  possibly 
convey.      It   means,    be    changed    in   your  mind ; 
awake  to  a  new  sense  and  a  new  apprehension  of 


REPENTANCE.  203 

things ;  take  on  a  change  of  mind  in  thought,  in 
will,  in  heart. 

This  conclusion  of  verbal  exegesis,  in  which  all 
Biblical  scholars  are  now  agreed,  is  confirmed  and 
illustrated  by  the  context.  The  reason  which 
Jesus  gave  why  men  should  awake  and  be  trans- 
formed in  their  minds  is  this,  "  The  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  at  hand."  The  conjunction  of  ideas  here 
is  very  remarkable.  Manifestly  something  more 
or  quite  other  than  the  penitence  of  mere  terror  is 
here  enjoined.  The  nearness  of  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  which  Jesus  announced,  was  not  a  matter 
of  dread,  but  of  rejoicing.  It  was  the  advent  not  of 
wrath,  but  of  mercy ;  the  coming  not  of  war,  but 
of  peace.  The  heaven  to  which  he  pointed  was 
no  Olympian  realm  of  warring  and  blood-stained 
deities,  but  the  reign  of  the  righteous  and  pitiful 
Father,  the  holy  and  loving  Lord ;  and  therefore 
His  first  word  was  not  one  of  rebuke,  but  of  as- 
piration,—  Awake,  be  changed  in  your  minds; 
"  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand."  It  would 
have  been  easy  for  our  Lord  to  have  made  His  first 
appeal  to  men  on  other  grounds.  He  might  have 
begun  by  directing  their  attention  first  of  all  to  the 
wretchedness  and  guilt  of  the  lower  life.  Instead 
of  pointing,  in  the  first  instance,  to  the  nearness 
and  blessedness  of  heaven's  kingdom,  He  might 
have  pointed  to  the  actual  woes  of  the  devil's 
kingdom,  in  which  the  whole  world  was  lying  in 
wickedness.  He  had  but  to  look  around  Him  for 
the  ghastly  sanctions  of  such  an  argument  Sin, 
like   a   stalking  pestilence,  had   wrought  universal 


204  ^'•^^'  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

desolation.  Everywhere  "  indignation  and  wrath, 
tribulation  and  anguish,"  were  visited  on  the  souls 
and  bodies  of  men,  for  all  had  done  evil.  The  vast 
unnumbered  mass  of  men  were  groping  in  hideous 
darkness.  For  the  millions  who  tilled  the  fields, 
and  reared  the  monuments,  and  made  the  roads, 
and  did  the  world's  toil,  and  fought  the  world's 
battles,  life  was  but  a  season  of  dumb  and  inarticu- 
late woe,  ended  by  the  rayless,  hopeless  night  of 
death.  Even  more  pitiful  was  the  case  of  those 
who  lorded  it  over  the  ignotum  vulgns  ;  for,  pursu- 
ing pleasure,  they  found  only  weariness,  and,  hungry 
for  joy,  a  fruitless  longing  consumed  their  hearts. 
Then,  as  ever,  the  so-called  gladness  of  selfish 
worldliness  was  but  a  hollow  mockery,  and  all  the 
trappings  of  worldly  pride  were  but  the  livery  of 
despair.  With  what  startling  emphasis,  then,  the 
young  Nazarine  might  have  pointed  to  the  Gentile 
world  dying  in  slow  agony  before  their  eyes,  and 
have  said,  **  Except  ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise 
perish." 

He  might  have  said  this  as  His  first  word ;  but 
He  did  not.  He  rather  pointed  men,  in  the  first 
place,  to  something  better.  His  way  of  moving 
men  to  forsake  the  woes  of  sin  was  by  pointing 
them  to  the  beatitude  of  holiness.  Be  changed  in 
your  minds;  take  on  a  new  mind;  "for  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  is  at  hand."  And,  oh,  friends,  this 
has  ever  been  the  Divine  way.  Whenever  God 
calls  men  to  repentance,  He  begins  by  awaking  the 
mind  to  nobler  thoughts,  by  kindling  better  aspira- 
tions in  the  heart.     The  prodigal  comes  to  himself 


REPENTANCE.  205 

and  remembers.  It  is  the  memory  of  something 
better,  even  the  Father's  house,  that  reveals  his 
present  wretchedness.  It  is  the  Master's  gracious 
bounty  in  fiUing  Peter's  net  that  moves  him  to 
confess  his  sinfulness.  It  is  light  from  heaven 
that  arrests  Saul's  mad  career  as  he  journeys  to 
Damascus,  and  a  voice  speaks  to  him  with  Divine 
tenderness  out  of  the  excellent  glory.  So  every- 
where men  are  best  moved  to  true  repentance  by 
the  sense  of  the  gracious  nearness  of  the  kingdom 
of  heaven. 

Now,  then,  having  cleared  the  way,  let  us  study 
a  little  more  closely  the  nature  of  that  mighty 
movement  of  the  soul  which  in  our  English  Bibles 
is  called  repentance.  Among  divines  it  is  consid- 
ered as  consisting  of  three  processes,  —  illumina- 
tion, contrition,  emancipation  or  enfranchisement. 
Let  us  think  of  these  for  a  few  moments  in  their 
order.  And  first,  repentance  is  the  illumination, 
the  enlightenment,  the  awakening  of  the  soul  to 
the  reality  and  nearness  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
Adopting  for  our  present  purpose  the  terminology 
of  the  text,  there  are  two  kingdoms  apprehensible 
by  man  in  this  state  of  existence,  —  one  we  will  call 
the  kingdom  of  the  world,  the  other  the  kingdom 
of  heaven.  The  two  kingdoms  are  not  distant  one 
from  the  other;  no  walls  divide  them,  no  sentinels 
pace  their  boundaries.  There  is  much  that  is 
common  to  both,  however  different  the  estimate  or 
value  that  is  set  upon  it.  The  same  fair  earth,  with 
its  trees,  its  rivers,  its  hills ;  the  same  holy  dawns 
and  solemn  sunsets  ;  the  same  sun  and  moon  and 


206  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

Stars  and  revolving  seasons;  in  large  degree,  the 
same  human  interests  and  pursuits,  the  same  ten- 
dernesses and  affections  of  the  human  heart.  And 
yet  so  diverse  are  these  two  kingdoms,  that  it  is 
altogether  possible,  nay  it  is  easy  for  a  man  to 
know  almost  everything  about  one  of  them,  and  to 
be  absolutely  ignorant,  insensible,  unconscious  of 
the  other.  Let  me  try  now  to  make  this  plain. 
You  all  know  what  I  mean  by  the  kingdom  of  this 
world.  Let  us  call  no  hard  names,  but  let  us  take 
it  at  its  best.  Let  us  take  a  man  of  the  world,  not 
a  reprobate  or  an  outcast,  but  a  man  of  intelligence 
and  refinement,  one  of  the  best  of  his  class.  He 
looks  out  on  this  world  with  acute  and  intelligent 
observation.  He  engages  heartily  and  prosper- 
ously in  its  pursuits.  He  takes  a  thoughtful  inter- 
est in  its  manifold  activities.  He  is  a  merchant, 
and  he  studies  the  laws  of  trade ;  he  is  a  lawyer, 
and  he  masters  the  science  of  jurisprudence ;  he 
is  a  politician,  and  he  knows  how  to  touch  the 
springs  of  human  action ;  he  is  a  statesman,  and 
he  understands  the  laws  of  national  honor  and 
greatness.  Nay,  he  is  a  student,  a  scholar,  an 
adept  in  the  love  of  science.  Art  is  his  pastime  ; 
the  book  of  Nature  engages  his  serious  thought. 
He  can  weigh  the  planets,  number  the  stars,  ap- 
poi-nt  a  rendezvous  for  the  wandering  comets ;  he 
can  tell  you  how  mountains  waste  and  grow,  and 
how  continen*:s  sink  and  rise ;  he  knows  much 
about  the  philosophies  and  economies  of  life ;  he 
will  tell  you  that  sin  is  foolish  when  it  is  vulgar 
and  does  harm ;  that  selfishness  is  evil  when  it  is 


REPENTANCE.  20/ 

coarse  and  unrestrained  ;  that  passion  is  hurtful 
unless  it  be  carefully  bridled ;  that  temperance  is 
the  handmaid  of  pleasure ;  that  moderation  is  the 
secret  of  real  enjoyment.  Nay,  he  is  so  wise,  so 
prudent,  so  gracious,  that  he  is  fitly  called  a  man 
of  the  world  because  he  so  thoroughly  understands 
the  world  and  its  life. 

Is  there  anything,  now,  that  this  man  does  not 
know,  or  is  not  in  the  way  of  knowing?  Yes, 
much.  There  is  a  whole  world,  a  kingdom  all 
around  him,  of  which  he  is  absolutely  uncon- 
scious. Perhaps  he  once  knew  it,  but  the  knowl- 
edge of  it  has  vanished  from  him  somehow.  As 
a  child,  he  lived  in  it ;   for,  as  the  poet  well  says  : 

"  Heaven  lies  about  us  in  our  infancy  ! 
Shades  of  the  prison-house  begin  to  close 

Upon  the  growing  boy, 
But  he  beholds  the  light,  and  whence  it  flows, 

He  sees  it  in  his  joy  ; 
The  youth,  who  daily  farther  from  the  east 
Must  travel,  still  is  Nature's  priest, 

And  by  the  vision  splendid 

Is  on  his  way  attended  ; 
At  length  the  man  perceives  it  die  away, 
And  fade  into  the  light  of  common  day." 

So,  I  repeat,  the  unbelieving  man  of  the  world 
becomes  unconscious  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
Though  men  tell  him  about  it,  he  does  not  take  it 
in  at  all.  It  is  all  an  unreality  to  him.  In  vain 
you  tell  him  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  the 
real  world  in  which  all  spiritual  greatness  and 
blessedness  are,  —  it  is  a  phantom  to  him ;    that 


208  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

its  sovereign  is  the  good  and  gentle  God,  —  He 
does  not  acknowledge  Him ;  that  it  has  its  own 
code,  —  he  refuses  to  study  it ;  that  it  has  its  own 
culture,  called  worship,  —  it  is  foolishness  or  weari- 
ness to  him ;  that  it  has  a  whole  set  of  motives 
and  aspirations  which  in  all  lands  have  been  the 
inspiration  of  all  that  is  best  in  human  history,  — 
he  answers  with  a  smile  of  incredulity  or  a  sneer 
of  contempt  when  you  talk  thus  to  him.  In  a 
single  word,  here  is  God's  great  kingdom,  even 
the  kingdom  of  heaven,  at  hand,  and  he  is  blind 
to  it,  seeing,  with  all  his  intelligence,  only  what  a 
brute  of  equal  intelligence  could  see,  and  loving 
only  what  a  brute  of  equal  taste  could  love. 

But  suddenly  and  gradually  a  light  breaks  in 
upon  his  vision.  In  a  whisper  or  in  a  trumpet 
peal  the  mighty  word  steals  or  resounds  through 
the  chambers  of  his  soul :  Awake,  take  on  a  new 
mind  !  There  is  a  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  it  is  at 
hand.  Who  can  tell  what  the  occasion  may  be 
when  this  living,  wonder-working  word  may  arouse 
him?  It  may  be  at  some  pentecostal  outpour- 
ing, or  in  some  moment  of  lonely  dejection.  It 
may  be  in  the  midst  of  some  worshipping  throng, 
or  when,  in  the  night's  still  watches,  the  jaded  or 
disappointed  heart  sobs  its  longing  and  unrest.  It 
may  come  like  the  wail  of  a  lost  hope  or  the 
memory  of  a  mother's  prayer.  At  all  events,  the 
ear  does  catch  the  mighty  word ;  and  suddenly  or 
gradually  he  does  become  conscious  that  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  is  at  hand,  —  a  kingdom  not  of  this 
world,  and  yet  embracing  this  world ;   a  kingdom 


REPENTANCE.  209 

of  righteousness  but  of  love,  of  holiness  and  there- 
fore of  peace ;  a  kingdom  whose  king  is  the  all- 
loving  Father  of  men;  a  kingdom  whose  strange 
unearthly  code  reads  in  this  wise  :  "Blessed  are  the 
meek,  blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit,  blessed  are 
the  merciful,  blessed  are  the  peacemakers,  blessed 
are  the  pure  in  heart,"  —  where  they  that  mourn 
are  comforted,  where  they  that  are  maligned  and 
evil-entreated  are  sustained,  where  the  hunger  and 
thirst  of  heart  are  satisfied ;  a  kingdom  whose 
symbol  of  the  cross,  once  so  despised,  is  now  sure 
to  represent  the  very  principle  of  all  real  wisdom 
and  all  real  power,  even  the  wisdom  and  power  of 
God.  Illumined  by  this  knowledge,  he  begins  to 
see  all  things  in  a  different  light.  Transformed  by 
this  vision,  his  mind  begins  to  take  new  views  of 
the  world  and  of  life.  Suddenly  and  gradually  the 
mighty  word  arouses  him  at  last.  He  sees,  he 
feels,  he  knows  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  at 
hand. 

The  next  process  is  known  as  contrition,  the  sor- 
row of  an  awakened  soul  at  the  sense  of  its  exile 
and  degradation.  Not  a  base  terror,  not  a  sordid 
dread,  but  the  noble  sorrow  of  one  who  mourns 
because  he  has  been  and  is  unworthy  of  his  true 
lineage.  Oh,  it  is  the  homesickness  of  the  soul, 
the  upbraiding  memory,  which  visits  the  prodigal's 
hungry  and  forsaken  heart !  And  then  suddenly 
or  gradually  more  and  more  of  the  wonders  of 
that  heavenly  kingdom  are  disclosed  by  the  re- 
vealings  of  the  Spirit.  For  the  prodigal  then  is 
welcome,  for  sin  there  is  healing,  for  guilt  there 

14 


2IO  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

is  atonement,  for  restlessness  there  is  peace.  And 
so  finally,  the  awakened,  contrite  soul  turns  away 
from  the  base  servitude  of  the  world,  and  girds  up 
its  loins  to  go  and  claim  its  heavenly  inheritance. 
It  renounces  the  base  bondage  in  which  it  has 
hitherto  been  held,  and  acknowledges  its  allegiance 
to  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

My  brethren,  need  I  remind  you  that  this  great 
business  of  repentance  is  one  in  which  man  does 
not  act  alone?  The  illuminating,  sin-convincing, 
energizing  power  is  a  power  from  on  high,  even 
the  Spirit  of  God.  Nevertheless,  because  man 
may  resist  or  yield  to  the  ever-pleading  Spirit,  it 
is  the  soul's  achievement  also,  and  it  is  its  no- 
blest act,  its  most  heroic  achievement.  When 
from  the  blue  skies  of  Castile  and  Arragon  the 
morning  sun  kissed  the  returning  sails  of  the 
storm-tossed  Columbus,  it  illumined  the  path 
along  which  the  great  Genoese  mounted  to  un- 
dying fame ;  for  he  gave  a  new  world  to  civilized 
man.  But  far  greater  the  achievement  of  that 
more  heroic  soul  who  through  repentance  has  w^on 
its  way  to  the  new  world  of  God,  even  the  king- 
dom of  heaven.  When  Copernicus  read  anew  the 
movements  of  the  stars,  and  discovered  that  earth 
is  not  the  centre,  but  only  one  of  the  starry  train 
which  move  in  rhythmic  harmony  around  the 
central  sun,  his  name  took  its  place  in  the  bright 
constellation  of  the  world's  sages ;  but  far  more 
sage  and  wonderful  is  the  discovery  which  the  soul 
makes,  through  repentance,  that  man's  home  and 
centre  is  not  here,  but  that  all  his  true   interests 


REPENTANCE,  2 1 1 

move  around  the  Sun  of  Righteousness.  When 
great  liberators  and  emancipators  like  Washington 
and  Lincoln  arise,  to  strike  the  shackles  from  the 
slave  and  bid  the  bowed  millions  stand  erect  and 
free,  the  world  fitly  honors  them,  and  holds  their 
names  in  fond  and  proud  remembrance.  But  far 
greater  that  more  difficult  and  therefore  more  he- 
roic emancipation  which  through  repentance  lifts 
up  the  degraded  soul,  and  rescues  it  from  the 
bondage  of  sin  and  worldliness,  and  enables  it  to 
stand  once  more  erect  and  firm  in  God's  image  in 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.  Friends,  brothers,  when 
one  of  you  shall  accomplish  this  heroic  act,  the 
world  will  haply  know  little  and  care  less  about  it ; 
but  in  that  hour  your  name  shall  be  writ  in  the 
Lamb's  book  of  remembrance,  and  a  new  thrill  of 
gladness  shall  roll  through  all  the  ranks  of  those 
who  wait  and  serve  ! 


SERMON   XI. 

SONS    OF    GOD.^ 

But  as  many  as  received  him,  to  them  gave  he  power  to  be- 
come the  sons  of  God,  even  to  them  that  believe  on  his  name  : 
which  were  born,  not  of  blood,  nor  of  the  will  of  the  flesh,  nor  of 
the  will  of  man,  but  of  God. — John  i.  12,  13. 

IF  it  were  possible  for  us  to  read  the  New  Testa- 
ment freshly,  and  as  though  it  were  altogether 
new  to  us,  the  thing  that  would  strike  us  most  forci- 
bly, perhaps,  would  be  the  remarkable  prominence 
that  is  there  given  to  faith.  In  all  His  teaching  and 
in  all  His  works  our  Lord  made  faith  the  one  in- 
dispensable condition  of  receiving  blessing  or  help 
from  Him ;  and  to  it  He  never  failed  to  respond 
with  power.  Therefore  wherever  He  went  His  su- 
preme demand  was  for  faith.  As  soon  as  the  first 
great  word  of  His  preaching  had  awakened  the 
soul,  the  next  mighty  word  was  spoken :  Believe. 
"The  time  is  fulfilled,  and  the  kingdom  of  God  is 
at  hand  :  repent  ye,  and  believe  the  gospel."  And 
from  that  time  he  made  more  and  more  of  faith, 
as  though  it  included  all  things,  declaring  that  it, 
and  it  alone,  was  competent  to  secure  and  appro- 
priate all  the  good  which  He  had  come  to  give, — 
heahng  for  the  sick,  sight  for  the  blind,  salvation 

1  Preached  in  St.  Paul's  Church,  Detroit,  on  the  morning  of  the 
second  Sunday  in  Advent,  18S6. 


SOA^S   OF  GOD. 


213 


for  the  lost,  life  for  the  dead.  Nay,  the  power  of 
the  Infinite  was  declared  to  be  at  its  command,  and 
all  things  to  be  possible  to  him  that  believeth. 
Not  less  wonderful  was  the  virtue  which  the  apos- 
tles and  familiars  of  Jesus  ascribed  to  faith.  Ac- 
cording to  them  it  is  through  faith,  and  faith  only, 
that  the  soul  is  pardoned,  justified,  sanctified, 
saved;  and  it  is  declared  in  many  places  and  in 
many  ways,  but  especially  in  one  passage  of  un- 
equalled sublimity,  that  it  has  been  by  faith  that  all 
the  world's  worthies  have  achieved  greatness  and 
won  renown ;  not  by  might,  nor  by  heroism,  nor 
by  genius,  but  by  faith  they  *'  subdued  kingdoms, 
wrought  righteousness,  obtained  promises,  stopped 
the  mouths  of  lions,  quenched  the  violence  of  fire, 
escaped  the  edge  of  the  sword,  out  of  weakness 
were  made  strong,  waxed  valiant  in  fight,  turned 
to  flight  the  armies  of  aliens."  And  in  the  passage 
which  I  have  chosen  for  my  text  Saint  John  assigns 
to  faith  a  function  more  wonderful  still,  declaring 
that  faith  in  Jesus  is  the  transformation,  the  divine 
birth  of  the  soul,  to  which  power  is  given  to  be  the 
son  of  God.  "  But  as  many  as  received  him,  to 
them  gave  he  powder  to  become  the  sons  of  God, 
even  to  them  that  believe  on  his  name ;  which  were 
born,  not  of  blood,  nor  of  the  will  of  the  flesh,  nor 
of  the  will  of  man,  but  of  God." 

Upon  reflection,  however,  it  is  easy  to  see  that 
the  prominence  which  is  assigned  to  faith  in  the 
New  Testament  Scriptures  is  by  no  means  ficti- 
tious or  arbitrary,  but  that  it  Hes  in  the  very  nature 
of  things.     When  Jesus  chose  it  as  the  cardinal 


214  ^-^^   DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

virtue  of  His  religion,  and  promised  to  it  alone  His 
power  and  blessing,  He  did  but  illustrate  afresh 
His  profound  and  all-comprehending  knowledge  of 
man  and  man's  capacity  for  greatness.  For  faith  is 
man's  characteristic  faculty,  by  means  of  which  he 
has  done  all  the  noble  deeds  that  have  adorned 
his  history.  I  use  the  accepted  language  of  philos- 
ophy when  I  define  it  in  its  generic  sense  as  that 
function  or  movement  of  the  soul  by  means  of 
which  man  relies  on  and  confides  in  the  unseen,  — 
a  function  which  every  man  must  employ  even  in 
the  commonest  affairs  of  life,  without  which  he 
could  not,  even  for  a  single  day,  live  a  rational  ex- 
istence. In  other  words,  man  must  believe  in  more 
than  he  can  see ;  he  must  confide  in  more  than  his 
senses  can  verify;  he  must  exercise  a  trust  in  the 
unseen,  which  is  a  genuine  movement  of  faith,  or 
a  reasonable  life  would  be  simply  impossible.  It 
is  faith  in  the  beneficent  constancy  of  natural  law 
which  hushes  the  anxious  toiler  to  sleep  when  the 
work  of  the  day  is  done,  because  he  believes  that 
with  the  morrow  the  sun  shall  return  in  his  strength 
to  gladden  the  world.  And  in  the  morning  it  is 
faith  that  sends  him  forth  to  his  work  and  his  labor 
till  the  evening,  because  he  believes  that  in  obedi- 
ence to  natural  law  he  shall  surely  reap  his  reward. 
Faith  in  truth  guides  the  student.  Faith  in  justice 
inspires  the  jurist.  Faith  in  life  and  its  healing 
power  calls  forth  the  physician's  skill  and  nerves 
the  surgeon's  hand.  Faith  discerns  the  unseen 
beauty  and  wakes  the  poet's  rapture,  or  loves  the 
ideal  grace  and  kindles  the  philosophic  thought,  or 


sojvs  of  god.  215 

inspires  the  artist's  dream.  Faith  in  man  and  his 
destiny,  even  though  it  be  but  an  earthly  destiny, 
guides  the  statesman's  poHcy  or  shapes  the  patriot's 
purpose  as  he  employs  the  arts  of  diplomacy  or 
hurls  his  embattled  legions  against  the  enemies  of 
his  country.  So  in  all  ages  and  beneath  every 
sky  it  has  been  through  faith,  and  only  through 
faith,  that  man  has  subdued  kingdoms  and  wrought 
righteousness,  or  done  anything  worthily  and  well 
either  in  the  domain  of  action  or  the  domain  of 
thought,  in  the  realm  of  matter  or  in  the  kingdom 
of  souls. 

Among  the  recorded  sayings  of  our  Lord  there  is 
none,  perhaps,  that  is  more  remarkable  than  this : 
"All  things  are  possible  to  him  that  believeth;" 
and  yet  there  is  no  one  of  his  transcendental  say- 
ings that  admits  of  a  more  obvious  verification. 
Let  us  now  examine  this  for  a  single  moment 
in  order  to  understand  faith  and  its  power.  "All 
things  are  possible  to  him  that  believeth."  That  is, 
as  a  man's  faith,  so  is  his  strength ;  as  he  believes, 
so  shall  it  be  done  unto  him.  To  begin  our  illus- 
tration of  this  on  the  lowest  ground,  a  man  must 
believe  in  anything  in  order  to  use  it  effectively. 
He  must  believe  in  himself  in  order  to  make  the 
most  and  best  of  his  own  powers.  He  must  be- 
lieve in  his  fellow-men,  or  he  cannot  be  their  guide 
or  leader.  He  must  believe  in  the  cause  which  he 
has  in  hand,  or  he  cannot  conduct  it  or  help  it  to 
success.  And  if  in  addition  to  this  faith  in  himself, 
his  fellow-men,  his  cause  and  its  future,  he  is  wise 
enough  to  work  along  the  lines  of  known  law,  or 


2l6  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAM. 

if,  in  other  words,  he  has  faith  in  the  law  which 
operates  in  the  domain  of  his  endeavor,  then  all 
things  within  the  domain  of  that  law  are  possible 
to  him.  When  we  study  history,  we  find  that  this 
is  the  secret  of  all  human  success.  Successful  men 
are  men  who  truly  believe  in  the  powers  which 
they  invoke  and  employ,  and  who  because  they 
believe  in  them  use  them  wisely.  The  difference 
between  men  is  not  so  much  a  difference  of  brain 
power  as  a  difference  of  faith  power.  Faith  is  the 
attribute  which  makes  men  heroic  and  masterful. 
Men  of  faith  believe  in  the  power  which  they  in- 
voke, in  the  agencies  which  they  employ;  and 
using  them  to  the  utmost,  they  accomplish  results 
which  to  an  unbelieving  man  are  impossible.  Faith, 
then,  is  the  wielder  of  all  power.  It  is  the  achiever 
of  all  success,  the  architect  of  all  fortunes,  the  win- 
ner of  all  victories.  It  rules  in  the  camp,  in  the 
senate,  and  in  the  field,  as  well  as  in  the  house  of 
prayer. 

Now,  so  far  as  a  merely  physical  or  economical 
endeavor  goes,  the  faith  which  wins  success  need 
not  be  Christian  faith ;  but  it  must  be  a  faith  which, 
whether  it  acknowledges  God  or  not,  does  believe 
in  and  obey  the  power  of  God.  For  instance,  take 
any  successful  scientist,  like  Professor  Tyndall,  for 
example.  He  believes  in  God's  physical  forces,  and 
he  reverently  obeys  them.  Therefore  he  is  able  to 
employ  them,  and  so  in  the  domain  of  physics  and 
up  to  the  limit  of  his  faith  he  wields  the  physical 
power  of  God.  The  secret  of  his  success  as  a 
physical  philosopher  is  that  he  profoundly  believes 


SOA^S  OF  GOD.  217 

in  the  rightness  and  constancy  of  physical  law ;  and 
believing,  he  obeys  and  rules,  and  all  things  within 
the  sphere  of  its  action  are  possible  to  him.  So  it 
comes  to  pass  that  faithful  engineers  and  mechanics 
and  physicists  are  mighty  men.  They  have  not 
only  their  own  strength,  but  God's  strength  too. 
They  make  the  lightnings  carry  their  messages, 
the  winds  and  the  rivers  turn  their  wheels  and  bear 
their  burdens.  All  that  the  powers  which  they  be- 
lieve in  can  do,  they  can  do  likewise ;  for  all  things 
are  possible  to  him  that  believeth. 

Now,  precisely  the  same  reasoning  applies  in 
the  region  of  the  spiritual.  There,  too,  humble 
faith  or  trust  invokes  power  and  wields  pov/er. 
The  same  temper  of  mind  and  heart  that  makes 
Tyndall  great  when  dealing  with  material  things, 
would,  if  applied  to  spiritual  things,  make  him 
great  in  Christian  effort  and  prayer.  If  he  be- 
lieved in  God's  spiritual  forces  as  profoundly  as  he 
does  in  God's  physical  forces,  he  could  command 
the  angels  as  he  now  commands  the  lightnings, 
and  could  not  only  send  his  voice  from  Lincoln 
to  London,  but  he  could  send  a  prevailing  peti- 
tion to  the  city  of  God  along  the  golden  chain 
of  prayer.  For  prayer  is  the  Christian's  quest, 
even  as  labor  is  the  philosopher's  seeking.  One 
seeks  with  Hghted  torch  the  mind's  delight  or  the 
body's  comfort;  the  other  seeks  on  bended  knee 
some  peace  or  grace  for  the  soul.  But  in  both 
cases  it  is  faith  that  wins  the  power  and  receives 
the  blessing.  All  things  are  possible  then  to  him 
that    believeth,    but   only   as    he    believeth.     The 


2l8  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

kingdom  of  heaven  is  revealed  more  and  more, 
and  as  it  is  revealed  faith  grows ;  and  as  it  grows  it 
utters  its  agonizing  cry  for  more  growth.  "  Lord, 
increase  our  faith,"  is  the  conquering  prayer  that 
wins  the  conquering  faith  ;  and  still  it  cries  out  for 
more  as  it  goes  on  conquering  and  to  conquer. 

Now,  then,  we  are  in  a  position  to  understand  the 
wonderful  statement  of  my  text.  God's  gracious 
and  beneficent  power  has  been  revealed  to  men  in 
the  person  and  by  the  work  of  His  eternal  Son. 
By  faith  in  that  Son,  man  is  able  to  appropriate 
the  kind  of  power  in  which  he  believes,  and  so  to 
become  a  son  of  God.  Marvellous  as  this  state- 
ment is,  it  is  yet  in  exact  accordance  with  the 
universal  operation  of  all  living  faith;  for  first  it 
takes  on  the  likeness,  and  then  it  wins  the  power 
of  that  in  which  it  believes.  It  is  so  in  science, 
and  it  must  be  so  in  religion.  It  is  so  in  the  king- 
dom of  this  world,  and  it  must  be  so  in  the  king- 
dom of  heaven.  It  is  the  universal  office  of  faith 
first  to  transform  and  then  to  energize.  Therefore 
we  may  read  without  wonder  that  to  believe  in 
God's  Son  is  to  be  born  of  God,  and  so  to  win 
power  to  be  a  son  of  God.  Add  to  this  the  fur- 
ther thought  that  this  lofty  faith  is  faith  not  merely 
in  a  principle  or  a  revelation,  but  in  a  person ;  that 
it  is  confidence  or  trust  not  only  in  what  He  re- 
vealed and  taught  and  did,  but  in  Him  who,  be- 
cause He  is  the  Son  of  God,  is  the  Revealer,  the 
Redeemer,  the  Saviour ;  that  faith  in  Him  not  only 
transforms  into  His  likeness,  but  fits  and  enables 
the  believer  to  receive  favor  and  grace  from  Him, 


soA's  OF  con.  219 

even  His  quickening,  life-giving  spirit;  that  faith 
in  Him,  therefore,  means  pardon,  peace,  justifica- 
tion, and  the  indweUing  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  —  we 
begin  to  see  how  true  this  statement  must  be,  that 
truly  to  believe  in  Jesus  as  the  Son  of  God  is  to  be 
born  of  God,  and  to  have  power  to  be  a  son  of  God. 
And  this  the  text  declares  is  the  same  as  receiving 
him  as  a  personal  Saviour,  —  one  who  comes  to  the 
individual  soul  as  its  Enlightener,  Redeemer,  Sa- 
viour. Oh,  then,  this  is  the  supreme  question  for 
me  to  ask  myself,  Have  I  this  personal  faith  in  the 
Son  of  God,  living  faith  in  Him,  —  not  simply  in  His 
doctrine,  His  teaching.  His  church,  His  ordinances, 
but  faith  in  Him?  When  in  my  weakness  or  my 
wretchedness  He  comes  to  me,  do  I  receive  Him? 
Is  He  my  accepted  Saviour?  Do  I  put  my  trust 
in  Him?  If  so,  I  am  born  of  God;  I  have  power 
to  be  a  son  of  God. 

Brethren,  let  me  conclude  with  two  thoughts,  — 
one  of  comfort,  one  of  warning.  To  be  a  son  of 
God,  oh,  that  is  the  loftiest  aspiration  of  the  human 
soul !  Time  would  fail  me  to  tell  how  the  heathen 
have  missed  the  way  to  attain  to  that  sonship,  and 
how  men  of  the  world  still  miss  it.  It  is  a  secret 
thought  that  lies  at  the  root  of  all  ambitions,  all 
dynastic  combinations,  all  aristocracies  of  heredi- 
tary honor  and  power.  But  by  none  of  these  are 
men  able  to  attain  to  that  divine  sonship  wdiich 
their  souls  long  for.  Royalty  grows  effete  and 
brainless,  and  often  mad.  Nobility  of  birth  grows 
corrupt  and  shameless,  as  every  daily  paper  tells. 
Pride  of  intellect  is  not  more  effective  than  pride 


220  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

of  purse  to  keep  a  man  from  baseness.  There  is 
no  man  but  the  Christian  that  can  be  a  son  of  God. 
But  even  among  nominal  Christians  how  often  is 
the  way  utterly  mistaken.  Men  and  women  so 
often  suppose  that  it  is  by  doing  something  that 
they  may  become  sons  of  God.  And  so  they  set 
out  in  the  servile  spirit  of  servants.  Oh,  how 
anxiously  they  pray,  and  give  alms,  and  attend  ser- 
vices, and  wait  on  ordinances;  but  all  in  vain  !  No 
sense  of  sonship  comes  to  the  anxious  soul.  Listen, 
brother,  sister.  It  is  not  by  doing,  but  by  believ- 
ing, that  you  and  I  can  become  the  sons  of  God. 
Believe ;  only  believe  !  '*  As  many  as  receive  him, 
to  them  giveth  he  power  to  become  the  sons  of 
God,  even  to  them  that  believe  on  his  name." 
Let  us  then  go  back  to  this  thought,  my  weary 
brothers  and  sisters.  It  is  not  an  easy  matter  so 
to  believe.  It  means  the  renouncing  of  all  self- 
trust  and  self-sufficiency;  it  means  the  renouncing 
of  sin  and  worldliness  ;  it  means  the  simple  accept- 
ance of  Jesus  as  the  one  and  all-sufficient  Saviour; 
it  means  a  simple,  joyful  trust  in  Him.  Oh,  what 
comfort  in  the  thought,  —  it  is  not  for  what  I  do, 
or  think,  or  say,  but  it  is  because  I  believe,  that  I 
am  a  child  of  God. 

Then  comes  the  thought  of  warning.  If  now  I 
am  a  son  of  God,  I  must  act  as  a  son, —  not  in  a 
servile  spirit,  but  in  a  filial  spirit.  I  must  do  my 
Father's  will,  and  be  about  my  Father's  business. 
Not  in  order  that  I  may  be  a  son,  but  because  I 
am  a  son,  I  will  do  all  things  that  He  commands 
me.     Here,  now,  is  a  test  which  every  one  of  us  can 


SOJVS  OF  GOD.  221 

apply  to  himself.  Do  I  act,  feel,  live,  like  a  son? 
Am  I  about  my  Father's  business,  and  does  my 
soul  delight  in  that  business?  If  not,  what  is  the 
matter?  Oh,  is  it  not  that  something  is  wrong  with 
my  faith?  Has  it  not  somehow  been  overborne 
by  selfishness,  by  passion,  by  worldliness?  If  so, 
then  let  the  Advent-cry  once  more  awaken  our 
souls,  "  The  time  is  fulfilled,  and  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  at  hand.  Repent,  and  believe  the  gos- 
pel." And  then  the  gracious  promise  is  still 
ours,  —  our  Saviour  comes  to  us  this  day,  the  liv- 
ing Saviour,  in  the  way  of  His  own  appointing, 
and  as  many  as  receive  Him,  to  them  giveth  He 
power  to  become  the  sons  of  God ;  even  to  them 
that  beheve  in  His  name. 


SERMON   XII. 

HOPE.l 

Beloved,  now  are  we  the  sons  of  God,  and  it  doth  not  yet  ap- 
pear what  we  shall  be  :  but  we  know  that,  when  he  shall  appear, 
we  shall  be  like  him ;  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is.  And  every 
man  that  hath  this  hope  in  him  purifieth  himself,  even  as  he  is 
pure. —  I  John  iii.  2,  3. 

IT  is  easy  to  see  that  this  noble  passage  is  thor- 
oughly characteristic  of  its  inspired  author; 
for  of  all  the  apostles  Saint  John  was  the  one  who 
had  the  deepest  sense  of  the  dignity  and  blessed- 
ness of  the  Christian  life.  By  nature  he  was  an 
enthusiastic,  loving,  and  aspiring  man.  It  was  to 
be  expected,  therefore,  that  he  of  all  others  would 
gain,  through  grace,  the  loftiest  vision  of  divine 
truth,  and  would  be  at  once  heavenly-minded  and 
tender-hearted,  known  among  his  familiars  both  as 
the  son  of  thunder  and  the  disciple  whom  Jesus 
loved.  It  was  in  strict  consistency  with  this  that  he 
was  the  one  who  leaned  his  young  head  on  the 
Master's  breast  at  Bethany,  and  who  alone  of  the 
apostles  dared  to  stand  near  the  Master  at  the 
last  dread  scene  at  Calvary.  So  it  was  he  who 
dared  to  see  and  to  tell  the  wonders  that  were 
revealed  to  his  eagle  gaze  in  Patmos,  and  whose 

1  Preached  in  St.  Paul's  Church,  Detroit,  on  the  morning  of  the 
third  Sunday  in  Advent,  18S6. 


HOPE.  223 

voice  breaks  with  womanly  tenderness  as  he  ex- 
claims, "  Behold,  what  manner  of  love  the  Father 
hath  bestowed  upon  us,  that  we  should  be  called 
the  sons  of  God."  Once  before,  in  the  sublime 
prologue  to  his  Gospel,  he  had  told  of  the  mystery 
and  the  power  of  that  sonship.  So  here  again 
he  takes  up  the  lofty  strain,  and  says,  "  Beloved, 
now  are  we  the  sons  of  God,  and  it  doth  not  yet 
appear  what  we  shall  be :  but  we  know  that,  when 
he  shall  appear,  we  shall  be  like  him ;  for  we  shall 
see  him  as  he  is.  And  every  man  that  hath  this 
hope  in  him  purifieth  himself,  even  as  he  is  pure." 

In  this  passage  there  are  several  topics  of  the 
greatest  interest  presented  for  our  consideration, 
such  as  the  dignity  of  the  Christian  life,  —  Divine 
sonship ;  the  progressive  development  of  that  life 
towards  its  lofty  goal,  which  is  likeness  to  God,  of 
which  likeness  the  beatific  vision  is  to  be  at  once 
the  proof  and  the  fruition;  and  finally,  the  hope 
which  sustains  and  ennobles  the  Christian  on  his 
way.  "  Every  man  that  hath  this  hope  in  him 
purifieth  himself,  even  as  he  is  pure."  In  order 
now  to  understand  the  meaning  and  power  of 
this  hope,  which  is  my  special  subject  this  morn- 
ing, let  us  first  inquire  concerning  the  reality  of 
the  Divine  sonship  on  which  it  is  predicated,  and 
of  the  movement  toward  the  Divine  likeness  by 
which  it  is  sustained.  Is  it  anything  more  than 
a  mere  figure  of  speech  to  say  that  the  Christian 
believer  is  a  son  of  God? 

There  is  no  need  that  I  should  go  to-day  into 
those  profound  but  luminous  speculations  of  Chris- 


224  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

tian  theosophy  by  which  it  can  be  shown,  as  I 
beheve,  that  man  before  his  fall  was  an  actual  and 
recognized  and  conscious  son  of  God.  Suffice  it 
to  say  that  creation  was  but  the  revealing  of  a  fact, 
and  man  made  in  God's  image  and  likeness  was 
God's  child  and  representative  in  this  lower  world. 
But  then  came  a  great  apostasy,  in  which  man  fell 
away  from  his  high  estate,  in  which  man  lost  both 
the  right  and  sense  of  sonship,  and  became  a  crea- 
ture of  time  and  the  world.  In  this  condition,  man 
the  fallen  one  would  of  necessity  have  been  dis- 
owned and  forever  disinherited  of  his  righteous 
Father,  had  not  redeeming  love  proposed  and  ac- 
complished a  plan  by  which  God  was  reconciled  to 
man,  and  man  might  be  restored  and  reconciled 
to  God.  In  the  fulness  of  time  this  plan,  which 
was  always  meritoriously  present  to  the  Divine 
Mind,  was  actually  accomplished.  The  everlast- 
ing Son,  the  Revealer  and  Saviour,  became  man,  in 
order  at  once  to  make  atonement  and  accomplish 
redemption,  revealing  the  reconciled  Father  to  man, 
and  showing  a  way  and  providing  the  means  by 
which  man  might  regain  his  lost  sonship.  The 
fact  is  that  God  is  now  reconciled  to  all  men.  So 
far  as  His  act  and  grace  are  concerned,  all  men 
have  the  right  to  be  sons.  But  man  must  appro- 
priate and  realize  his  sonship ;  and  the  means  by 
which  this  is  done  is  faith,  —  faith  in  the  Son  of 
God  as  the  Revealer  and  Saviour,  that  heroic  act 
of  the  soul  whereby  it  makes  its  surrender  to  God, 
renews  its  allegiance  to  Him,  receives  the  Son  of 
God,  and  with  Him  receives  power  to  be  a  son. 


HOPE.  225 

Now,  this  great  transaction  is  called  in  Scripture 
the  new  birth  of  the  soul ;  and  the  phrase  is  none 
too  strong  when  it  is  considered  what  is  done.  In 
all  cases  the  mighty  power  which  accomplishes  it 
is  the  Holy  Spirit.  Baptism  is  its  sign,  and  faith 
is  its  appropriation  whereby  the  man  appropriates 
his  sonship  and  becomes  indeed  a  son  of  God. 
This  sonship,  then,  is  a  real  sonship.  It  is  no  mere 
figure  of  speech.  Not  only  does  it  rest  on  eternal 
facts  which  are  of  the  most  tremendous  dignity 
and  significance,  but  it  rests  further  upon  the  reali- 
zation and  appropriation  of  that  fact  by  the  soul 
itself  in  a  transaction  which  is  real  birth  into  a 
Divine  sonship;  so  that  this  is  a  more  real  than 
any  mere  natural  sonship, — the  spiritual  sonship 
of  those  who  are  here  called  the  sons  of  God. 

Time  would  fail  me  to  speak  of  its  dignity.  I 
pass  at  once  to  the  progressive  development  of 
this  character  in  the  soul,  whereby  its  dignity  is 
being  constantly  enhanced.  It  has  not  yet  been 
all  revealed.  "  It  doth  not  yet  appear  what  we 
shall  be."  We  are  moving  toward  a  consumma- 
tion which  has  not  yet  been  attained,  which  is 
likeness  to  God.  Here,  now,  is  another  note  of  the 
reality  of  the  sonship.  In  human  relationships 
the  bond  between  father  and  son  is  more  and  more 
relaxed  as  time  goes  on;  In  this  divine  relation- 
ship it  Is  just  the  reverse.  The  Christian  grows 
more  and  more  like  the  Father,  and  shall  at  last  be 
altogether  like  Him,  and  shall  see  Him  as  He  is. 
In  no  respect  does  Christianity  more  completely 
illustrate  its  divineness  than  in  the  way  in  which  it 

15 


226  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

saves  men  and  women  from  the  decay  and  debase- 
ment of  age,  and  makes  them  grow  more  and  more 
lovely  and  loving  as  they  grow  older.  For  in  the 
natural  man  the  reverse  is  true.  Out  of  religion 
and  out  of  grace,  as  men  and  women  grow  old 
they  grow  less  fit  to  be  loved  and  trusted.  I  know 
nothing  in  all  the  world  more  ghastly  than  the 
degradation  which  a  godless  old  age  inflicts  on 
the  dignity  and  grace  of  manhood.  Well  may 
the  man  and  woman  of  the  world  dread  its  ap- 
proach, and  seek  to  conceal  its  outward  handi- 
work. But  the  true  indignity  that  it  works  is  not 
upon  the  body,  but  upon  the  unbelieving  soul. 
One  of  the  terrible  things  that  we  learn  as  we  gain 
knowledge  of  the  world  is  this,  —  that  the  older  an 
unbelieving  man  or  woman  becomes,  the  less  good, 
the  less  loving,  the  less  kind,  the  more  selfish,  the 
more  hard,  the  more  cruel,  the  less  worthy,  the 
less  to  be  trusted,  the  less  to  be  loved.  What  a 
terrible  revelation  it  is !  This  of  itself  ought  to 
strike  terror  to  the  heart  of  the  man  or  the  woman 
who  has  not  believed.  For  oh,  there  is  nothing 
more  ghastly  than  a  godless  old  age !  In  child- 
hood there  is  no  unbelief:  this  is  the  secret  of  its 
loveliness.  In  early  manhood  the  effects  of  un- 
belief are  not  so  apparent  and  not  so  desperate. 
At  all  events,  there  are  impulses  that  are  unselfish 
and  generous  and  kind.  But  in  a  godless  age 
impulse  has  perished  while  selfishness  has  grown 
apace,  and  grasping  and  cruel  greed.  How  dif- 
ferent it  is  with  the  Christian,  the  believing  man  ! 
Fair  as  is  his  youth,  yet  his  manhood  and   even 


HOPE.  227 

his  age  are  fairer  still.  In  his  case  there  is  growth 
in  grace,  and  gracefulness  and  graciousness  of 
character,  in  tender-heartedness,  loving-kindness, 
and  all  loveliness  of  spirit.  The  marks  which  age 
sets  upon  the  brow  do  but  lend  an  added  dignity 
to  him.  Though  his  eye  grow  dim,  yet  it  has  the 
pensive  light  of  another  world.  Though  the  face 
be  seamed  by  thought  or  saddened  by  sorrow,  yet 
it  is  refined  by  a  gentler,  nobler  grace.  Though 
the  hair  fade  into  whiteness,  yet  "  the  hoary  head 
is  to  him  a  crown  of  glory,  being  found  in  the  way 
of  righteousness,"  So  does  he  increase  in  dignity 
as  the  years  go  on,  because  he  grows  in  love,  joy, 
peace,  long  suffering,  gentleness,  goodness,  faith, 
meekness,  temperance,  —  in  a  single  word,  he 
grows  in  likeness  to  God. 

Now,  then,  the  consummation  toward  which  this 
growth  of  the  Christian  life  is  constantly  moving  is 
complete  hkeness  to  God,  and  the  beatific  vision ; 
and  the  hope  that  this  shall  be  his  both  sustains 
and  purifies  him.  ''  Every  man  that  hath  this  hope 
in  him  purifies  himself,  even  as  he  is  pure."  Of  the 
function  of  hope  in  general,  as  a  regulative  move- 
ment of  the  soul,  I  have  not  time  now  to  speak. 
Any  hope  will  assuredly  energize  and  quicken  the 
life  that  entertains  it.  This  hope  refines  and  puri- 
fies it  as  well.  And  first,  because  this  hope  is  not 
only  before  man,  but  it  is  above  him.  In  climbing 
toward  it,  he  must  leave  all  meaner  things  behind 
and  beneath  him.  And  this  brings  us  to  the  great 
thought  of  the  text.  The  hope  of  the  Christian  is 
the  one  worthy,  enduring  hope  that  is  capable  of 


228  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

lifting  man  above  the  earth  and  leading  him  to 
Heaven.  For  all  earthly  and  human  ideals  are  too 
near  the  man  to  last  him  more  than  a  little  while. 
No  sooner  does  he  propose  one  such  to  himself,  and 
begin  to  mount  toward  it,  than  it  begins  to  lose 
its  excellence  as  he  draws  nigh  to  it,  and  soon  it 
has  no  power  to  hold  his  affections.  There  is 
no  imaginable  state  that  he  cannot  so  disenchant 
except  heaven,  and  no  model  that  he  cannot  un- 
idealize  except  the  Son  of  God.  Therefore  every 
mere  earthly  hope  is  unworthy  to  rule  a  man,  and 
if  he  have  no  higher,  will  at  last  degrade  him ;  be- 
cause man  is  greater  than  any  earthly  honor  he 
can  aspire  to,  and  greater  than  the  world  that  he 
lives  in,  and  greater  than  all  its  achievements  and 
glories,  —  yes,  greater  than  anything  except  God. 
Here,  now,  is  the  eternal  grandeur  of  Christ's  re- 
ligion. It  proposes  the  only  worthy  and  enduring 
hope  to  man.  It  says  to  you  and  to  me,  **  If  you 
will,  you  may  be  godlike,  for  you  are  the  sons  of 
God.  And  you  may  be  like  Him  if  you  will,  and 
see  Him  as  he  is."  Sic  itiir  ad  astra :  This  is  the 
way  to  the  stars.  And  Jesus,  our  elder  brother, 
has  gone  before,  and  opened  the  way  for  aspiring 
man  to  follow.  Behold  they  go  to  Him,  out  of 
every  nation  and  every  land,  the  leal,  the  loving,  the 
true-hearted,  even  those  who  believe  on  His  name. 
One  by  one  they  shake  off  all  meaner  desires,  and 
lay  all  meaner  purposes  down,  and  as  they  climb 
toward  Him  along  the  various  paths  of  suffering 
and  of  duty,  their  hearts  are  filled  with  a  common 
hope,  —  to  be  like  Him,  and  see  Him  as  He  is. 


HOPE.  229 

"  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall 
see  God."  Surely,  ''  every  man  that  hath  this 
hope  in  him  purifieth  himself,  even  as  he  is  pure." 
Oh  that  the  age  could  learn  afresh  the  beauty,  the 
grace,  the  strength,  the  blessedness  of  purity  !  Do 
we  not  need  to  be  reminded  of  the  infinite  value 
of  this  grace  which  includes  all  others  and  meas- 
ures all  others?  Does  not  the  world  about  us  need 
more  than  all  things  else  to  be  taught  how  precious 
and  priceless,  how  all-comprehending  it  is?  And 
not  less  needful  is  it  that  the  world  should  know 
the  great  truth  that  no  man  can  be  trusted  who 
does  not  cherish  in  his  heart  some  high  hope, 
some  lofty  ideal  which  purifies  him  and  keeps  him 
pure.  I  have  tried  to  tell  you  this  morning  what 
the  only  hope  is  that  is  competent  to  do  that; 
what  the  one  ideal  is  which  can  lead  man's  aspir- 
ing soul  and  keep  his  wayward  heart  true.  Other 
hopes  may  last  for  a  little  while ;  for  a  little  time 
some  earthly  ideal  may  engage  and  hold  the  heart. 
But  the  one  enduring  hope,  the  one  hope  that  sur- 
vives all  earthly  failure,  that  transcends  all  earthly 
success,  is  the  hope  of  the  Christian.  The  one 
ideal  which  always  summons  man  to  higher  and 
higher  achievement  is  the  Christian  Leader  and 
Exemplar,  the  strong  and  gentle  Son  of  God.  Of 
Him  the  Psalmist  says,  "  I  shall  be  satisfied  when 
I  awake  with  thy  likeness."  Of  Him  the  apostle 
says,  "  We  shall  be  like  him,  and  see  him  as  he 
is."  Surely  we  can  say,  **  He  that  hath  that  hope 
in  him  purifieth  himself,  even  as  he  is  pure." 

In  the  beautiful  legends  which  tell  us  of  Arthur 


230  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

and  the  Knights  of  the  Round  Table,  one  knight 
is  described  as  the  bright  and  consummate  flower 
of  chivalry,  the  brave  and  spotless  Sir  Galahad,  — 
whose  good  blade  carved  the  casques  of  men, 
whose  tough  lance  thrusted  sure,  whose  strength 
was  as  the  strength  of  ten,  because  his  heart  was 
pure.  It  was  no  fond  tale,  no  idle  fancy;  for 
many  Sir  Galahads  have  lived  since  Christ  came 
to  show  men  how  to  be  great ;  and  such  are  the 
men  who  have  done  all  the  fairest  and  gentlest 
deeds  of  human  history.  And  sordid  and  com- 
monplace as  the  world  seems  to  have  grown,  the 
only  real  leaders  of  men  are  the  men  who  like 
Sir  Galahad  are  high-minded  and  pure-hearted. 
The  tim.e  was  when  such  rode  forth  in  armor  to 
resist  the  spoilers,  and  keep  the  far  frontiers  of 
Christendom  against  the  heathen  invader.  Now, 
however,  they  do  the  less  conspicuous  but  not 
less  glorious  part.  In  every  Christian  community 
there  are  pure-hearted  Christian  men  who  are 
the  real  champions  of  right,  the  warders  of  all 
that  men  cherish  and  hold  dear,  —  men  who  are 
kept  stainless  .and  pure  by  the  high  hope  of 
their  Christian  calling;  men  whose  high-minded- 
ness  gives  tone  to  our  society,  who  are  the  real 
defenders  of  public  safety  and  domestic  peace. 
These  are  the  true  defenders  of  our  country,  the 
unconscious  champions  of  its  homes,  —  men  to 
whose  star-eyed  vision  the  Christian's  hope  has 
risen,  and  whom  by  God's  grace  it  has  purified 
and  is  keeping  pure. 


SERMON   XIII. 

SELF-SACRIFICE.l 

Hereby  perceive  we  the  love  of  God,  because  he  laid  down 
his  life  for  us:  and  we  ought  to  lay  down  our  lives  for  the  breth- 
ren.—  I  John  iii.  i6. 

THAT  man  should  love  God  with  all  his  heart 
and  soul  and  mind  has  been  enacted  once 
and  again  by  the  Supreme  Law-giver  as  the  first 
and   great  commandment;   and  it  is  obvious  that 
to  do  this  is  to  fulfil  the  law  concerning  God,  for 
love  includes  all  obligations  and  embraces  all  duty. 
It  is  a  shallow  mistake,  therefore,  to  suppose  that 
this  law  of  love  is  merely  a  sentimental  require- 
ment, demanding  nothing  more  than  the  play  of 
amiable    aff'ections    or    the    easy   outgoings    of  a 
sunny  good-nature.     For  truly  to  love  is  to  do  all 
the  deeds  and    render  all    the  service  which  love 
requires,   up  to  the  full  measure  of  the  capacity 
and  opportunity;   and  though  to  do  this  is  the  de- 
hght  of  the  loving  soul,  yet  so  to  love  is  the  soul's 
noblest  achievement,  because  it  includes  all   sac- 
rifice and  service.     But  man  cannot  love  God  sim- 
ply because  he  is  commanded  to  do  it,  nor  even 
because  it  is  reasonable  that  he  should  do  it.     No 

1  Preached  in  St.  Paul's  Church,  Detroit,  on  the  morning  of 
the  fourth  Sunday  in  Advent,  1886. 


232  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

matter  how  strong  his  faith,  there  must  be  some- 
thing in  God  to  call  forth  his  love ;  and  that  some- 
thing there  is,  indeed,  but  it  is  not  the  perfection 
of  His  being  nor  the  splendor  of  His  state.  It  is 
not  His  wisdom,  or  His  power,  or  His  glory;  it 
is  His  love.  It  is  by  His  love  that  He  makes  His 
great  appeal  to  man.  '*  We  love  him  because  he 
first  loved  us."  Now,  there  are  two,  and  only  two, 
conceivable  ways  in  which  God  could  have  made 
His  great  appeal  to  man's  love :  one  is  by  ex- 
hibiting His  own  love  in  unceasing  bounty  and 
beneficence ;  the  other  is  by  showing  His  love  in 
self-sacrifice.  Now,  it  is  conceivable,  of  course, 
that  God  might  have  relied  on  the  first  method, 
and  that  only.  He  is  a  God  of  bounty  and  be- 
neficence, and  He  might  have  called  all  His 
benevolent  power  into  unceasing  and  unvarying 
action  to  supply  every  wish  and  gratify  every 
desire  as  fast  as  it  arose,  giving  to  man  perpet- 
ual sunshine,  unfailing  plenty,  eternal  spring  and 
perennial  flowers.  Man's  foolish  fancy  has  often 
fastened  on  such  Arcadian  delights,  and  he  has  been 
prone  to  say,  ''  How  good  and  grateful  I  would 
be  if  God  would  only  give  me  all  that  I  desire  !  " 
It  requires  but  small  reflection,  however,  to  show 
us  that  man,  being  what  he  is,  would  not  only  be 
degraded  by  such  unconditional  beneficence,  but 
that  he  would  be  made  ungrateful  and  unloving 
by  it.  To  say  nothing  of  the  failure  of  such  a 
plan  to  make  him  noble  and  blessed,  it  is  certain 
that  it  would  also  fail  to  make  him  even  love  the 
Giver.     However    much  we   may  deplore   it    and 


SELF-SA  CRIFICE.  233 

be  ashamed  of  it,  it  is  nevertheless  profoundly 
true,  that  unstinted  beneficence  does  not  kindle 
and  keep  alive  the  affections  of  the  human  heart. 
All  the  base  annals  of  human  ingratitude  go  to 
show  that  nothing  is  more  inevitable  than  that  the 
recipient  of  mere  bounty,  no  matter  how  lavish 
and  unfailing,  will  .not  long  love  the  good  hand 
that  bestows  it.  The  reason  is  that  mere  benefac- 
tion is  not  regarded  by  the  human  heart  as  the 
token  of  love.  Something  else  must  be  added, 
and  that  something  else  is  sacrifice.  Self-sacri- 
fice is  the  one  token  of  love  which  man  believes 
in.  The  one  appeal  which  always  touches  the 
human  heart  is  the  appeal  of  the  cross.  We  all 
are  daily  reminded  of  this.  In  our  homes  we  all 
know  that  it  is  not  the  carelessly  indulgent  father 
who  is  best  beloved  by  his  children;  but  it  is  the 
self-sacrificing  father,  —  the  father  who,  for  the  love 
which  he  bears  to  his  children,  bears  the  cross  in 
his  daily  life ;  the  father  who  shows  his  love  by 
his  diligent  and  self-denying  care,  whose  life  is 
a  life  of  self-giving  and  of  unselfish  devotion.  So 
it  is  not  the  foolishly-indulgent  mother  who  has 
either  the  best  or  the  most  loving  children,  but 
the  mother  who  daily  and  hourly  bears  the  cross 
in  carefully  guiding,  restraining,  teaching,  ruling 
her  children;  who  shows  her  love  by  many  a 
self-sacrificing  refusal  and  many  a  painstaking 
and  self-sacrificing  reiteration  of  precept  and 
mandate,  —  she  is  the  mother  whose  children  are 
not  only  noble  but  loving,  and  who  rise  up  and 
call  her  blessed.     Oh,  fathers,  mothers,  you  who 


234  ^-^^  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

yearn  not  only  for  the  well-being  but  for  the  love 
of  your  children,  take  this  lesson  to  heart !  It  is 
not  by  your  careless  bounty  or  by  your  easy  in- 
dulgence, but  it  is  by  your  Christian  self-control, 
self-denial,  self-sacrifice,  that  you  must  show  the 
love  that  is  to  win  love  from  your  children's 
hearts.  Their  little  hearts  are  not  to  be  deceived 
by  foolish,  weak  indulgences,  and  if  that  is  all  that 
you  have  to  give  them,  then  do  not  wonder  if  they 
repay  you  with  base  ingratitude ;  for  the  child  is 
like  the  man,  and  can  be  touched  and  ruled  by  no 
love  that  does  not  show  itself  in  self-sacrifice. 

It  was  therefore  in  accordance  with  a  profound 
principle  of  our  nature  that  God  chose  rather  the 
second  of  the  two  ways  of  showing  His  love ;  not 
by  careless  beneficence  merely,  but  by  self-sacri- 
fice. "  Hereby  perceive  we  the  love  of  God,  be- 
cause he  laid  down  his  life  for  us."  And  this  was 
in  strict  accordance  with  His  own  nature;  for  it 
is  His  nature  to  show  His  love  in  self-sacrifice. 
Let  us  now  consider  for  a  few  moments  the  great 
appeal  which  He  thus  makes  to  our  love,  not  only 
on  Calvary,  —  though  that  was  its  supreme  mani- 
festation, —  but  in  all  that  He  is  and  does,  showing 
that  He  is  actuated  by  an  eternal  principle  which 
is  the  opposite  of  selfishness,  and  may  therefore 
be  fitly  called  self-sacrifice;  and  that  this  heroic 
principle  is  the  essential  characteristic  of  his  great- 
ness. This  is  the  argument  made  use  of  by  the 
apostle  in  the  text;  it  is  more  than  godly,  it  is 
godlike,  to  show  love  by  self-sacrifice. 

It  is  a  great  thought  that  in  all  that  God  has 


SELF-SA  CRIFICE.  235 

revealed  of  Himself  to  us,  He  has  taught  us  that 
He  is  love,  and  that  His  love  is  a  self-forgetting 
love.  In  the  august  councils  which  rule  His  ma- 
jestic economy.  He  thinks  not  of  Himself,  but  of 
others.  Nay,  even  in  the  mystery  of  the  Godhead 
there  have  been  from  all  eternity  the  movements  of 
a  self-giving  love,  —  the  Father  loving  the  Son,  and 
the  Son  the  Father,  and  with  these  the  co-eternal 
Spirit  also  loving  and  beloved.  So  God  Himself 
is  no  isolated  and  lonely  being,  self-sufficient  in 
majestic  selfishness,  but  in  the  mystery  of  the 
Trinity  of  persons  which  co-exist  in  the  unity 
of  the  Godhead,  each  person,  forgetting  Himself, 
pours  out  upon  the  others  the  treasures  of  infinite 
affection.  Therefore  it  is  that  the  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity  is  so  precious  to  the  Christian  conscious- 
ness. To  it  our  hearts  turn  with  grateful  rehef 
from  the  cold  and  mathematical  creed  that  denies 
companionship  in  the  Godhead.  Before  all  worlds, 
as  we  are  taught  by  our  holy  faith,  this  lofty 
principle  of  the  Divine  life  found  its  expression 
in  the  mutual  interchange  of  affection  betwixt  the 
co-eternal  persons  of  the  Godhead,  each  medi- 
tating not  upon  His  own  glory  but  upon  the 
glory  of  the  others.  If  the  life  of  God  had  not 
always  been  such,  it  were  false  to  say  that  He  is 
love.  Self-love  is  selfishness;  and  I  say  it  with 
all  reverence,  there  had  been  no  room  for  real 
love  in  the  Godhead  if  there  had  been  but  one 
person  in  God.  But  the  love  which  is  His  life 
demanded  from  everlasting  to  be  fulfilled  in  the 
sacrifice  of  self-giving.     And  this  is  the  essential 


236  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

greatness  and  the  essential  blessedness  of  the 
Godhead,  companionship  in  unity,  each  person 
entirely  loving  the  others  and  being  by  the 
others  entirely  beloved. 

But  as  if  this  abounding  love  desired  some- 
thing less  strong,  more  dependent,  to  be  the 
object  of  the  Divine  affection,  the  created  uni- 
verse was  summoned  into  being.  The  myriad 
worlds  of  space  and  the  myriad  orders  of  Nature 
were  called  forth  out  of  nothingness  to  be  the 
objects  of  the  Divine  care.  Therefore  as  one  of 
the  fathers  has  finely  and  profoundly  said,  crea- 
tion itself  was  an  act  of  sublime  self-sacrifice 
with  God.  And  this  is  made  the  more  apparent 
when  we  remember  the  generous  conditions  under 
which  our  race  was  created.  God  might  have 
made  us  so  that  we  could  not  transgress  His  law. 
He  might  have  made  us  so  that  we  must  forever 
be  the  mere  vassals  of  His  will.  But  no ;  He  de- 
sired in  His  creatures  the  love  of  a  freeman,  not 
the  fear  of  a  slave.  In  the  magnanimity  of  His 
generous  providence  He  made  man  in  His  own 
image  and  endowed  Him  with  the  godlike  gift  of 
freedom,  and  therefore  with  a  power  truly  to  love. 
And  even  foreknowing  that  man  might  fall  away 
from  this  love,  He  yet  endowed  him  with  such 
liberty,  because  His  provision  embraced  the  mag- 
nificent purpose  of  redemption.  So  before  the  fiat 
of  creation  went  forth,  the  council  of  peace  had 
already  been  devised  between  the  Father  and  the 
Son.  The  sacrifice  of  Calvary  was  already  offered 
and  accepted.    The  love  which  called  our  race  into 


SELF-SACRIFICE.  237 

being  had  already  yielded  the  Son  to  degradation 
and  death,  and  the  Lamb  was  slain  before  the 
foundation  of  the  world.  This  deed  of  supremest 
self-sacrifice  was  involved  therefore  in  the  very 
act  of  creation,  and  by  this  token  God  shows  that 
He  loves  the  creation  more  than  Himself.  The 
cross  measures  all  things,  even  the  sublimity  of 
the  love  of  God ;  for  He  called  creation  very  good 
even  while  He  looked  down  the  ages  to  Calvary. 
The  cross  measures  all  things,  even  the  complete- 
ness of  that  Infinite  Love  which  planned  before- 
hand, out  of  love  for  man,  to  yield  up  the  Son 
of  God.  Oh,  then,  it  is  at  the  foot  of  the  cross 
that  we  learn  to  know  God,  and  that  He  is  loved ; 
and  it  is  there  that  His  great  appeal  is  made  for 
our  love  in  return.  For  there  His  love  is  ex- 
pressed in  language  which  every  generous  heart  can 
understand,  in  the  surrender  of  God  Himself  in 
utter  self-sacrifice.  "  Hereby  perceive  we  the  love 
of  God,  because  he  laid  down  his  life  for  us." 

Now,  then,  here  is  the  great  appeal.  It  would 
seem  that  no  heart  can  resist  it  which  has  been 
aroused  through  repentance  to  a  knowledge  of  the 
baseness  of  sin  and  the  blessedness  of  God's  love, 
and  has  through  faith  appropriated  the  meaning 
of  that  love  and  made  its  peace  with  God.  The 
effect  is  to  awaken  in  the  believing  heart  a  respon- 
sive love,  —  a  love  in  its  degree  like  God's  love. 
Nay,  by  the  operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit  His  love 
is  spread  abroad  in  our  hearts.  Now,  the  move- 
ments of  this  love  in  the  Christian's  heart  are  no 
doubt  feeble  and  fitful  at  first.     But  as  the  soul 


238  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

grows  in  grace  it  grows  also  in  its  power  to  love 
God ;  and  always,  from  the  very  first,  it  has  its 
own  tokens,  and  produces  its  own  effects  in  the 
character  and  life,  by  which  it  may  be  known. 
In  some  of  God's  servants  this  love  becomes  a 
great  and  absorbing  enthusiasm  of  the  soul.  There 
are  some  who  can  truly  say  with  the  Psalmist, 
"  My  soul  is  athirst  for  God,  yea,  even  for  the 
living  God :  when  shall  I  come  to  appear  before 
the  presence  of  God  ;  "  or  with  the  sainted  Muhlen- 
berg, ''  Who,  who  would  live  alway,  away  from 
his  God;  "  or  with  the  great  Bishop  of  Pittsburg, 
a  few  days  before  his  death,  *'  I  long  to  be  with 
God ;  "  or  Saint  Bernard,  who  wrote  the  beautiful 
hymn,  — 

'•Jesus,  the  very  thought  of  thee 

With  sweetness  fills  the  breast ; 
But  sweeter  far  thy  face  to  see, 

And  in  thy  presence  rest. 
No  voice  can  sing,  no  heart  can  frame, 

Nor  can  the  memory  find, 
A  sweeter  sound  than  Jesus'  name, 

The  Saviour  of  mankind. 
O  hope  of  every  contrite  heart, 

O  joy  of  all  the  meek, 
To  those  who  fall  how  kind  Thou  art, 

How  good  to  those  w-ho  seek  ! 
But  what  to  those  who  find  ?     Ah  !  this 

Nor  tongue  nor  pen  can  show ; 
The  love  of  Jesus,  what  it  is 

None  but  His  loved  ones  know." 

But  in  all  cases,  while  it  may  not,  and   often  is 
not,  such  a  passion  as  this,  yet  the   love  of  God 


SELF-SA  CRIFICE.  239 

is  real  in  those  hearts  which  have  come  to  a 
knowledcre  of  His  love.  I  need  not  enumerate 
all  its  tokens.  They  are  summed  up  in  the  old 
word  "  piety,"  a  word  of  whose  meaning  even  the 
heathen  had  some  knowledge  when  they  applied 
it;  as,  for  instance,  to  "  Pious  ^neas,"  as  to  one 
whom  the  gods  loved,  and  who  therefore  loved 
the  gods.  So,  but  in  larger  measure  in  the  Chris- 
tian, piety  is  the  answer  of  the  human  heart  to 
God's  love,  and  it  shows  itself  in  the  reverence 
which  is  the  habitual  attitude  of  the  soul  towards 
God  and  all  that  belongs  to  Him;  in  the  delight 
which  it  takes  in  His  worship;  in  the  surrender 
of  the  will  to  His  will,  and  the  joyful  doing  of 
righteousness ;  in  the  fixing  of  the  mind  and  heart 
supremely  on  those  things  that  are  lovely,  true, 
just,  honest,  pure,  and  of  good  report.  But  there 
is  one  supreme  token  of  its  presence  in  the  soul, 
to  which  the  apostle  continually  appeals,  and 
that  is  brotherly  love,  —  a  brotherly  love  which, 
like  God's  love,  shall  show  itself  in  self-sacrifice. 
**  Hereby  perceive  we  tlie  love  of  God,  because 
he  hath  laid  down  his  life  for  us;  and  we  ought 
to  lay  down  our  lives  for  the  brethren." 

My  brethren,  I  am  far  from  denying  that  there 
is  such  a  natural  grace  as  the  power  to  love  men. 
Spite  of  its  rarity  in  the  midst  of  abounding 
censoriousness,  we  know  that  it  does  exist;  that 
there  are  men  who  are  born  with  this  divine  gift. 
All  the  born  leaders  of  men  have  it.  All  great 
men  in  all  ages  have  been  genuine  lovers  of  their 
kind.     Faith  in  men  is  one  of  the  unfailing  notes  of 


240  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

greatness ;  and  so  love  for  men  is  another.  No  man 
can  be  a  leader  of  men  who  does  not  love  them. 
Some  men  there  are,  then,  in  every  land  who  are 
born  with  this  divine  power,  and  they  are  born 
the  leaders,  the  royal  souls,  the  true  kings,  whether 
of  low  or  high  degree,  and  men  know  them,  and 
follow  them  for  good  or  evil.  This  power,  how- 
ever, which  is  given  by  Nature  only  to  the  few,  is 
offered  by  grace  to  all.  In  the  heart  that  knovv^s 
the  love  of  God  a  responsive  love  is  kindled  which 
includes  man.  Not  only  so,  but  the  Christian  lover 
of  men  learns  how  to  show  his  love  with  power, 
and  always  to  make  it  work  for  good,  —  not  as 
the  easy  good-nature  of  the  sybarite,  or  with  the 
dissembled  selfishness  of  the  demagogue,  but  in 
the  genuine  self-sacrifice  of  a  love  that  is  like  the 
divine  love  in  this,  that  it  moves  and  enables 
him  to  lay  down  his  life.  "  Hereby  perceive  we 
the  love  of  God,  because  he  laid  down  his  life  for 
us:  and  we  ought  to  lay  down  our  lives  for  the 
brethren." 

What  does  this  mean?  Brethren,  it  means 
something  that  you  and  I  can  do,  ought  to  do, 
daily.  It  is  no  impossible  requirement,  it  is  no 
grievous  commandment.  It  is  simply  the  easy 
task  of  a  genuine  brotherly  love.  It  means  the 
reverse  of  selfishness;  it  means  the  habitual  think- 
ing and  feeling  and  living  not  for  self,  but  for 
others.  It  is  to  be  shown  in  a  thousand  ways,  — 
by  the  self-denial  and  self-control  of  gentle  be- 
havior and  good  manners;  by  feeling  sympathy 
and    expressing   it,   and    by  feeling  kindness  and 


SELF-SA  CRIFICE.  2  4 1 

showing  it  in  the  way  appropriate  to  each  case,  but 
ahvays  in  accordance  with  the  dictates  of  a  genu- 
ine brotherly  love.  Oh,  it  means  more  than 
bounty,  more  than  lavish  giving,  more  than  care- 
less beneficence.  It  means  simply  the  appro- 
priate conduct  and  the  appropriate  speech  of  one 
who  truly  loves  his  fellowmen,  and  who  is  large- 
minded  and  large-hearted  enough  to  show  it. 

Brethren,  never  was  there  a  time  when  this  truth 
needed  so  much  to  be  insisted  on  as  to-day. 
Business  is  imperilled,  progress  of  all  kinds  is 
impeded,  civil  society  is  menaced  by  the  greatest 
danger  that  has  ever  threatened  it,  simply  because 
men  have  failed  to  heed  this  injunction  of  the  text, 
and  not  only  to  love  one  another,  but  to  show  it 
by  appropriate  self-sacrifice.  What  is  needed,  in 
order  to  adjust  all  difi'erences  between  labor  and 
capital,  is  simply  more  of  the  religion  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  —  a  religion  which  shall  teach  genu- 
ine brotherly  love  to  all  men,  among  all  classes ; 
a  brotherly  love  which  shall  show  itself  in  the  self- 
sacrifice  of  righteous  dealing  and  kind  behavior, 
which  is  needed  just  as  much  among  the  poor  as 
among  the  rich ;  a  brotherly  love  which  shall  make 
little  instead  of  much  of  the  accidents  of  wealth 
and  poverty,  and  make  every  man  to  show  a  genu- 
ine regard  for  all  men  in  the  way  appropriate  to 
each.  This  is  the  one  thing  that  can  settle  our 
existing  difficulties,  and  restore  industrial  harmony 
and  public  peace.  Additional  legislation  cannot 
do  it,  nor  can  all  the  foolish  and  vicious  devices 
of  communism  and  socialism  and  agrarianism,  no 

16 


242  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

matter  by  whom  proposed.  They  are  all  but  the 
vain  attempts  to  substitute  something  cheap  and 
easy  in  place  of  the  old-fashioned  practice  of  self- 
sacrificing  brotherly  love,  —  a  brotherly  love  which 
is  costly  and  difficult  indeed  to  the  natural  man, 
but  which  ought  to  be  the  delight  of  the  Chris- 
tian ;  which  is  the  delight  of  the  man  whose  heart 
has  truly  responded  to  the  love  of  God.  And 
such  self-sacrificing  brotherly  love  is  mighty  among 
men.  For  just  as  we  perceive  God's  love,  not  be- 
cause of  His  beneficence  or  of  His  bounty,  but 
because  He  laid  down  His  life  for  us,  so  will  men 
perceive  our  love  for  them,  and  will  respond  to 
it,  only  when  we  show  it  by  our  loving  self-sacri- 
fice. And  oh,  to  do  the  royal  part  is  not  to  wait 
for  men  first  to  love  us,  but  to  love  them  first ! 
This  is  the  royal  way  to  win  men's  love,  to  con- 
strain them  to  say,  "We  love  him  because  he  first 
loved  us." 


SERMON   XIV. 

THE   ONLY   GOSPEL   FOR  THE   POOR.^ 

Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  them,  Go  and  show  John  again 
those  things  which  ye  do  hear  and  see  :  the  blind  receive  their 
sight,  and  the  lame  walk,  the  lepers  are  cleansed,  and  the  deaf 
hear,  the  dead  are  raised  up,  and  the  poor  have  the  gospel 
preached  to  them.  —  St.  Matt.  xi.  4,  5. 

THERE  seems  to  be  no  doubt  that  the  faith  of 
John  the  Baptist  had  begun  to  falter.  To 
say  that  it  had,  involves  no  discreditable  imputa- 
tion against  the  character  of  that  eminent  servant 
of  God.  He  was  the  free  son  of  the  desert,  and 
he  had  lately  been  cast  into  prison, — the  very 
child  of  impulse  and  inspiration,  and  yet  he  had 
been  bound  and  gagged  by  the  hand  of  despotism. 
He  was  a  brave  orator  and  preacher,  who  had 
nourished  his  youth  sublime  with  the  promise  that 
he  was  to  be  the  acknowledged  herald  and  hon- 
ored messenger  of  the  Most  High;  and  yet  he  had 
been  arrested  by  a  cruel  and  arbitrary  king,  and 
banished  to  a  remote  and  solitary  dungeon,  out 
of  which  the  voice  of  his  prophecy  could  be  no 
longer  heard ;  and  the  young  Messiah,  whose  ad- 
vent he  had  heralded,  seemed  content  to  have  it 
so.     The  Redeemer  of  whom  he  had  spoken  to  all 

1  Preached  in  St.  Paul's  Church,  Detroit,  on  the  morning  of  the 
fourth  Sunday  in  Advent,  1887. 


244  ^^^^  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

who  waited  and  wearied  for  redemption  seemed 
to  have  no  deliverance  to  offer  to  him.  And  so 
with  the  longing  of  a  captive  soul  not  yet  fully 
instructed  as  to  the  true  meaning  and  scope  of 
Christ's  Messiahship,  he  sent  to  ask  the  question 
of  Jesus,  *'  Art  thou  he  that  should  come,  or  look 
we  for  another  ?  "  The  answer  was  intended, 
doubtless,  to  instruct  as  well  as  to  reassure  him. 
It  was  no  part  of  the  Messiah's  mission  to  forcibly 
break  the  bond  of  temporal  authority.  To  lift 
up  the  standard  of  revolt  against  even  a  tyrant's 
power  was  not  the  appointed  work  of  man's  Re- 
deemer, but  to  loose  the  captives  of  sin,  to  minis- 
ter to  affliction  and  sorrow,  to  quicken  and  raise 
the  dead,  and  to  preach  the  gospel  to  the  poor,  — 
this  was  and  is  the  appropriate  work  of  the  Son 
of  God. 

Two  kinds  of  credentials  of  Christ's  mission  and 
character  are  here  declared  to  have  been  de- 
spatched to  the  captive  John,  —  the  first  miracu- 
lous, the  second  moral.  There  is  no  time  to  say 
more  than  a  word,  in  passing,  of  the  comparative 
evidential  value  of  them.  Miraculous  evidence  is 
perpetually  demanded  by  unbelief,  yet  unbelief 
is  absolutely  disqualified  from  understanding  it. 
The  whole  value  of  such  evidence  depends  upon 
the  condition  under  which  it  is  employed,  and  the 
uses  to  which  it  is  applied.  It  is  valuable  for  the 
purpose  of  instructing  and  confirming  antecedent 
belief,  especially  when,  like  John  the  Baptist's 
faith,  it  begins  to  falter;  but  it  is  valueless  because 
it  is  meaningless  to  an  unbeliever.     The  prodigies 


THE   ONLY  GOSPEL  FOR    THE  POOR.         245 

wrought  by  Christ  were  veritable  miracles.  They 
were  the  indefensible  attestations  of  His  divine 
power.  It  is  not  lawful  to  worship  Christ,  and  it 
is  not  possible  even  to  respect  Him,  unless  the 
wonders  which  He  did  were  miracles,  wrought,  as 
He  claimed,  by  an  essential  and  indwelling  God- 
head. But,  on  the  other  hand,  while  Christianity 
is  fully  committed  to  a  defence  of  miraculous  tes- 
timony, yet  it  remains  true  that  miraculous  testi- 
mony alone  cannot  produce  religious  conviction. 
Christ's  miracles  alone,  in  point  of  fact,  have  never 
done  so,  and  were  never  intended  to  do  so.  They 
were  the  outcome  of  a  supernatural  life ;  and  un- 
less we  grasp,  in  some  degree  at  least,  the  meaning 
of  that  life,  we  cannot  be  taught  by  them  or  under- 
stand them. 

But  the  concluding  words  of  the  text  refer  to  a 
better,  a  higher,  a  more  enduring  testimony.  Far 
better  than  the  evidence  of  miracles,  even  to  the 
instructive  understanding,  is  the  fact  recorded 
here :  "  The  poor  have  the  gospel  preached  to 
them."  Surrounded  as  we  are  by  an  unbelief  that 
is  not  merely  defensive,  but  is  aggressive  and  dar- 
ing, the  Christian  thinker  is  compelled  to  defend 
and  vindicate  the  intellectual  and  philosophical 
side  of  Christianity.  To  do  this  is  not  only  a  nec- 
essary task,  but  it  is  one  that  is  worthy  to  engage 
and  certain  to  reward  the  noblest  energies.  There 
is  no  department  of  human  knowledge  that  may 
not  be  successfully  laid  under  full  contribution. 
We  may  take  pur  stand  upon  the  loftiest  summit 
of  modern  thought,  and  summon  buried  ages  from 


246  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

the  sepulchres  of  the  past,  and  each,  as  its  sages 
and  warriors  shall  walk  dimly  under  review,  shall 
lay  a  tribute  down  at  the  feet  of  Jesus.  We  may 
spread  the  volume  of  archaeology  out  before  us; 
we  may  go  to  the  East  and  decipher  the  epitaphs 
that  mark  the  spot  where  forgotten  empires  have 
crumbled  into  dust,  and  to  the  West  where  Nature's 
more  lasting  monuments  lift  up  to  the  skies  the 
sign- manual  writ  by  primeval  glaciers  and  imme- 
morial storms.  In  every  region  of  earth  and  in 
every  era  of  history  there  are  to  be  gathered  evi- 
dences of  the  truth  recorded  in  this  priceless  vol- 
ume, —  that  Jesus  is  not  only  the  world's  greatest 
Teacher,  but  is  also  its  Saviour  and  Redeemer.  To 
follow  free  thought  into  every  field  with  a  spirit  of 
inquiry  as  free,  and  to  defend  the  faith  at  every 
point  of  attack,  is  a  part  of  the  unavoidable  duty 
of  the  militant  Church  of  God.  Yet  it  is  not,  after 
all,  on  these  lofty  altitudes  of  thought  that  Chris- 
tianity's most  cogent  and  most  persuasive  evi- 
dences are  found,  but  rather  in  the  valleys  and 
along  the  pathways  of  common  life,  and  espe- 
cially in  the  hearts  of  the  poor.  And  by  the  poor, 
I  mean  not  only  the  poor  in  this  world's  goods, 
but  all  the  poor  in  spirit,  all  the  sons  and  daugh- 
ters of  affliction,  all  the  lowly-minded  and  hungry- 
hearted.  To  them  the  gospel  comes  bearing  its 
own  mighty  credentials.  No  splendid  argument 
is  necessary  to  commend  it  when  once  the  human 
soul  becomes  conscious  of  its  need.  No  miracle 
of  power,  no  messenger  from  on  high,  is  required 
to  urge  its  authority  upon  a  broken  and  contrite 


THE   ONLY  GOSPEL  FOR    THE  POOR.         247 

heart.  Let  sickness  come,  or  bereavement,  or  sor- 
row, or  the  shame  of  self-reproachful  penitence, 
and  make  the  grieved  and  stricken  spirit  poor,  and 
then  the  heart  leaps  up  and  recognizes  in  the 
words  of  the  gospel  the  accents  of  its  Redeemer. 
Scepticism  may  vex,  and  heresy  distress,  and  schism 
rend  the  Church ;  but  so  long  as  sorrow  continues 
to  sadden,  and  affliction  to  desolate,  and  want, 
whether  physical  or  mental  or  spiritual,  to  agonize 
the  human  heart,  the  poor  in  spirit  will  continue  to 
have  the  gospel  preached  to  them,  and  will  hear 
it  gladly.  Martha  will  tell  her  troubles  to  Jesus, 
and  Mary  will  sit  at  His  feet;  when  sorrow  comes 
both  will  go  out  to  meet  Him;  and  Jairus  will  fly 
to  Him  to  tell  Him  about  his  dying  daughter; 
and  blind  Bartlmeus  will  raise  his  supplicating  cry ; 
and  all  the  mighty  multitude  of  grieved  and  peni- 
tent and  hungry-hearted  will  seek  Him,  and  will 
hear  His  gospel  when  it  is  preached  to  them. 

But  let  us  get  a  little  closer  to  our  text.  The 
old  word  *'  gospel  "  means,  as  you  know,  **  good 
news,"  ''  glad  tidings  ;  "  and  the  very  fact  that  Chris- 
tianity has  a  gospel,  or  good  news,  for  the  poor,  is 
its  great  credential.  In  this  respect  Christianity 
is  unique,  for  no  other  system  of  thought  has  any 
such  gospel.  Let  us  take  the  term  '*  the  poor  "  in 
its  ordinary  signification.  Let  us  take  it  to  mean 
the  great  and  growing  class  of  those  whose  daily 
life  is  a  perpetual  struggle  with  want  and  wretched- 
ness. Without  accumulated  capital  of  money,  or 
skill,  or  thought,  they  must  daily  front  the  great 
and  awful  problems  of  life,   and   must  drudge  or 


248  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

beg  in  order  to  solve  them.  Heretofore,  perhaps, 
our  country  has  had  fewer  than  any  other  land  of 
these  outcast  and  disinherited  poor,  but  now  they 
are  beginning  to  multiply  with  startling  rapidity. 
And  of  the  comparatively  poor,  proletarian  poor, 
those  whose  daily  lives  are  a  daily  struggle  with 
poverty,  and  who  must  depend  on  daily  toil  for 
daily  bread,  why,  they  far  outnumber  the  rich  and 
even  the  independent.  Considered  as  factors  in 
the  industrial,  economical,  political  life  of  the  na- 
tion, they  are  of  immense  importance.  To  the 
mere  economist  or  statesman,  to  one  who  looks 
upon  them  simply  as  a  large  and  growing  class, 
the  study  of  their  needs  and  capacities  is  of  im- 
mense and  pressing  interest.  How  much  more, 
then,  to  a  genuine  lover  of  his  country  and  of  his 
kind  !  How  vital  the  inquiry,  what  living  word  of 
good  news  has  any  system  or  any  man  to  speak 
to  the  poor? 

And  first  let  us  inquire.  Has  unbelief  any  such 
gospel?  We  will  suppose,  if  you  please,  that 
Christianity  is  for  the  time  being  set  aside,  and 
that  free  scope  is  given  to  atheism  to  tell  all  the 
so-called  good  news  that  it  has  to  offer.  Accord- 
ingly it  comes  with  jaunty  air,  and  proclaims  its 
lately  discovered  gospel  that  there  is  no  God, 
or  at  least  there  is  none  that  we  can  know  or 
need  care  about;  and  that  there  is  no  future  life, 
or  at  least  no  personal  immortality.  It  is  true 
that  all  this  has  a  certain  sinister  sound,  since  it 
bereaves  man  of  his  noblest  hope  and  his  loftiest 
thought,   and    relegates   him   to    the   condition    of 


THE   ONLY  GOSPEL   FOR    THE  POOR.         249 

the  brutes  that  perish;  but  let  us  not  be  too 
critical  just  yet.  It  claims  to  be  good  news,  and 
it  tells  the  careless,  the  gay,  the  selfish,  that  there 
is  no  God  to  judge,  and  no  eternity  to  reward  or 
punish ;  and  perhaps  the  selfishly  gay  and  care- 
less may  rejoice  for  a  little  season  in  this  new 
evangel.  But  how  about  the  poor?  How  about 
the  millions  of  the  weary,  the  heavy-laden,  the 
hungry-hearted?  What  gospel  has  this  creedless 
atheism   to  give  to  the  poor? 

Well,  let  us  be  perfectly  fair,  and  freely  admit 
all  the  comfort  that  it  has  to  give.  It  has  two 
messages  for  the  poor,  and  only  two :  one,  the 
message  of  the  demagogue;  the  other,  the  mes- 
sage of  the  scientific  philosopher.  And  first,  let 
the  atheistical  demagogue  speak  his  message;  it 
is  the  new  evangel  of  socialism,  of  communism,  or 
anarchy.  He  begins  by  declaring  that  all  poverty 
is  merely  artificial ;  that  it  is  the  result  of  the 
greed  of  the  rich  and  the  cunning  of  the  powerful, 
who  make  laws  for  their  own  advantage.  He 
tells  them  that  property  is  robbery ;  that  wealth  is 
crime ;  that  all  government  is  monstrous  tyranny ; 
that  what  the  masses  ought  to  do,  is  simply  to 
overthrow  government  and  abolish  property,  and 
let  all  men  have  all  things  in  common :  that  such 
a  revolution  would  do  away  with  poverty.  The 
answer  is,  that  all  this  is  a  contemptible  falsehood, 
a  shallow  lie.  Even  if  he  could  carry  out  his 
scheme  and  keep  men  in  the  condition  to  which 
he  would  commit  them,  the  result  would  be,  not 
the   abolishing  of  poverty,  but  the   making  of  it 


250  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

universal.  Not  only  so,  but  it  would  make  poverty 
even  more  wretched  than  it  is  to-day  even  in  its 
worst  form.  It  would  level  men  down  instead 
of  levelling  them  up,  and  would  recommit  them 
to  a  state  of  tribal  savagery  out  of  which  there 
would  be  no  power  to  lift  and  no  hope  to  guide 
them.  If  the  dream  of  the  communist  could  be 
realized,  all  traces  of  civilization  would  speedily  dis- 
appear. Skill,  energy,  industry,  capacity,  would 
cease  to  be  employed,  because  the  motive  to  use 
them  would  be  utterly  impaired.  All  the  noblest 
enterprises  would  be  abandoned,  and  the  grass 
would  grow  in  our  streets.  And  along  with  this 
economical  impoverishment  there  would  be  the 
far  worse  impoverishment  of  mind,  of  soul,  of 
spirit.  All  the  sweet  ministries  which  now  adorn 
prosperity,  and  all  the  gentle  yet  strong  graces 
which  now  dignify  adversity,  would  utterly  vanish. 
Hope  would  disappear,  and  gratitude ;  in  the 
place  of  these  would  arise  the  utterly  savage  and 
brutal  traits  of  unreasoning  self-will  and  other 
selfishness.  If,  then,  the  remedies  proposed  by 
communism  were  possible,  they  would  make  the 
poor  man's  lot  not  better,  but  a  thousand  times 
worse ;  they  would  reduce  him  and  all  men  to 
tribal  savagery  again,  and  make  the  fair  earth 
pandemonium,  or  a  howling  wilderness,  or  a  waste. 
Surely  this  is  no  gospel  for  the  poor. 

But  atheism  has  another  message  for  the  poor, 
and  only  one  other:  this  is  the  teaching,  not  of 
the  demagogue,  but  of  the  man  of  science.  He 
comes  forward  and  says  that  the  present  state  of 


THE   ONLY  GOSPEL   FOR    THE  POOR,         25 1 

the  poor  man  is  not  unnatural;  that  it  is  not  only- 
natural,  but  it  is  necessary  and  inevitable ;  that  it 
is  simply  the  result  of  that  great  law  of  the  sur- 
vival of  the  fittest,  which  makes  the  strong  pros- 
per, and  the  weak  and  incapable  fail  and  finally 
die.  Well,  let  us  continue  to  be  perfectly  fair. 
Let  us  admit  that  there  is  such  a  law  in  Nature 
as  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  Let  us  admit  that, 
so  far  as  natural  law  is  concerned,  what  the  man 
of  science  says  is  true,  —  horribly,  hideously,  sci- 
entifically true ;  but  surely  it  is  no  gospel.  The 
truer  it  is  the  less  of  a  gospel  it  is,  and  the  more 
need  there  is  for  some  supernatural  gospel  to 
come  to  man  from  beyond  this  dreary  reign  of  re- 
morseless law.  In  point  of  fact,  the  unbelieving 
man  of  science  does  not  often  try  to  comfort  the 
poor.  It  is  not  such  as  he  that  builds  hospitals, 
or  orphanages,  or  houses  of  mercy.  But  let  us 
suppose  that  such  a  man  does  undertake  to  pro- 
claim his  scientific  creed  among  the  poor.  We 
will  go  with  him,  if  he  please,  on  his  round  of 
enlightenment.  He  enters  the  lowly  abode  of 
poverty.  He  finds  there  a  man  looking  with 
tearless  eyes  upon  the  worn  and  pinched  faces 
of  the  little  ones  that  are  crying  to  him  for  the 
bread  that  he  cannot  give;  and  he  says  to  him, 
"My  good  man,  your  sufi'ering  is  but  the  result  of 
the  working  of  a  great  law  of  Nature  and  of  society. 
It  is  necessary  to  the  progress  of  the  race  that  the 
weaker  should  give  way  to  the  stronger;  that  the 
fittest  should  survive,  and  that  you  and  your  little 
ones  should  perish ;  it  must  be  so  for  the  progress 


252  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

of  humanity ;  your  comfort  is  that  in  some  remote 
future  the  humanity  that  then  shall  be  living  its 
little  day  on  the  earth  will  probably  be  a  little 
happier  because  you  are  miserable  now.  And  as 
for  the  weak  impulse  of  benevolence  that  tempts 
me  to  relieve  your  poverty,  it  would  be  a  scientific 
mistake ;  for  it  can  be  scientifically  demonstrated 
that  the  sooner  you  die  and  get  out  of  the  way 
the  better."  This  is  all  that  scientific  atheism  has  to 
say.  It  has  no  good  news,  no  gospel  for  the  poor. 
Let  us  turn  now  to  Christianity.  What  has  it 
to  say  to  the  poor?  Oh,  now  we  hear  glad  tidings 
indeed ;  now  we  hear  a  real  gospel !  It  comes 
to  the  poor  man  with  help  in  its  hands  and  with 
pity  in  its  heart;  and  while  it  soothes  and  relieves 
it  tells  its  good  news  of  hope,  of  love,  of  life.  It 
proclaims  that  his  poverty  and  his  want  and  his 
need  belong  to  an  order  and  a  world  that  is  pass- 
ing away;  and  that  God,  the  loving  God,  has 
another  world,  —  the  real  world,  —  in  which  to  re- 
dress all  the  inequalities  of  this ;  that  God  has  a 
whole  eternity  in  which  to  console  the  poor,  —  an 
eternity  of  peace  for  the  troubled,  of  rest  for  the 
weary,  of  joy  for  the  afflicted,  when  men  and  wo- 
men and  children  shall  hunger  no  more,  and  thirst 
no  more;  where  there  shall  be  no  more  pain, 
neither  sorrow  nor  crying,  for  God  shall  wipe  away 
all  tears  from  their  eyes.  Ah,  yes,  this  begins  to 
sound  like  good  news  indeed,  like  a  real  gospel  to 
the  poor.  We  need  not  wonder,  then,  that  this  is 
chosen  as  the  mightiest  credential  of  Christianity, 
—  this  good  news  from  another  world  and  another 


THE   ONLY  GOSPEL   FOR    THE  POOR.         253 

life.  This  sanctifies  the  humblest  lot  and  glorifies 
the  pauper's  dying  bed ;  this  alone  is  able  to  put 
the  light  of  another  world  into  the  dim  eyes  of  the 
toiling  millions,  to  charm  their  weariness  away. 

But  again,  the  gospel  of  Christianity  is  not  only 
the  gospel  of  hope,  but  a  gospel  of  might.  Not 
only  does  it  tell  of  glory  after  suffering,  but  of 
glory  by  reason  of  suffering.  It  reveals  to  the 
sufferer  the  sweetness  of  adversity.  It  casts  a  flood 
of  light  on  the  dark  problems  of  pain  and  sorrow, 
and  reveals  the  cross  as  the  wisdom  and  power  of 
God.  No  one  but  a  suffering  Saviour  could  have 
disclosed  this  mighty  principle,  —  the  wisdom  and 
power  of  the  cross ;  and  under  the  teaching  of  this 
gospel  poverty  itself  is  transformed  into  a  train- 
ing for  heroes  and  demi-gods.  It  comes  to  the 
poor  man  and  says  to  him,  ''  Oh,  my  brother,  do 
not  repine.  Only  take  your  lot  as  an  appointed 
discipline  of  love;  only  take  up  your  weariness, 
your  toil,  your  suffering,  your  disappointment,  as 
a  cross ;  only  carry  them  as  a  burden  which  your 
Master  has  appointed  to  make  you  strong.  And 
so  out  of  poverty  shall  come  riches,  and  out  of 
sorrow  joy,  and  out  of  labor  rest."  This,  then,  is 
a  real  gospel  for  the  poor. 

But  finally,  it  is  good  news,  the  only  good  news 
for  the  poor,  even  in  this  world.  For  it  reveals 
God's  fatherhood  and  man's  brotherhood,  and  it 
makes  that  brotherhood  real.  Oh  the  blessed  reve- 
lation of  God's  fatherhood !  Inexpressibly  sweet 
is  this  good  news  to  every  soul  to  which  it  comes. 
To  be  told  that  the  great  Deity  who  made  and 


254  ^-^^  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

rules  this  world  is  no  careless  potentate  or  cruel 
tyrant,  or  remorseless  judge,  but  a  Father,  all 
merciful,  all  pitiful,  all  tender;  and  to  have  Him 
revealed  by  a  loving  Son  as  a  reconciled  Father, 
who  for  His  Son's  sake  has  already  forgiven  man's 
weaknesses  and  sins,  —  oh,  this  is  the  gladdest  tid- 
ings that  ever  greeted  human  ears ;  this  is  the  good 
gospel  to  all  men  !  How  much  more  is  it  glad 
tidings  to  the  poor !  For  the  poor  man,  disowned 
and  outcast  it  may  be,  to  be  told  that  God  is  his 
Father,  that  he  is  a  child  of  royal  lineage,  even  the 
son  of  heaven's  Almighty  King,  —  how  does  that 
evangel  dignify  and  gladden  and  glorify  him !  It  is 
true  that  hardships  remain,  and  trials,  and  sorrows, 
and  burdens;  but  these  do  not  matter  so  much  to 
a  child  of  God.  It  does  not  so  much  matter  that 
the  son  of  a  king  should  have  to  suffer  a  little 
hardship,  to  camp  for  a  little  while  on  the  windy 
hillside,  or  to  clamber  for  a  season  over  the  dark 
mountains,  especially  as  he  is  simply  journeying 
home.  And  this  glorious  fact  of  God's  father- 
hood reveals  another  fact  hardly  less  glorious,  of 
man's  brotherhood,  —  teaches  the  poor  man  him- 
self, that  since  all  men  are  his  brothers,  therefore 
he  must  love  them  as  brothers.  Think  how  this 
sweetens  the  poor  man's  life  within :  helping  him 
to  love  all  men,  even  the  prosperous ;  to  be  patient 
with  all  men,  even  the  selfish  and  hard  ;  to  be  kind 
to  all  men,  even  those  who  are  ungracious  and 
cruel,  because  all  men  are  his  brothers,  no  matter 
how  unmindful  and  unworthy,  and  are  therefore  to 
be    loved    by  him.     Whether  the  rich   heed    this 


THE   ONLY  GOSPEL  FOR   THE  POOR.         255 

gospel  does  not  so  much  matter;  he  heeds  it,  and 
it  sweetens  all  his  life,  banishing  envy,  and  bitter- 
ness, and  hatred,  and  malice,  and  all  uncharitable- 
ness,  in  teaching  him  that  all  men  are  his  brothers, 
and  that  therefore  he  must  feel  and  act  a  brother's 
part  with  them,  even  as  God  is  his  Father,  and  that 
he  must  therefore  act  a  son's  part  to  God.  Surely 
this  is  a  gospel  for  the  poor. 

Finally,  it  is  also  a  gospel  for  all  men ;  for  in  a 
certain  true  sense  all  men  are  poor.  You  and  I,  my 
brothers,  my  sisters,  we  too  need  this  gospel,  for  we 
too  are  poor,  —  poor  in  our  daily  want,  poor  in  our 
perpetual  need,  poor  in  the  utter  inadequacy  of  all 
our  possessions  to  satisfy  our  yearnings,  poor  in 
our  dependence  on  one  another  and  on  our  God. 
We  bring  nothing  into  the  world,  and  we  can  carry 
nothing  out.  So  far  as  this  world's  riches  are  con- 
cerned, we  all  must  die  as  we  were  born,  in  utter 
helplessness  and  penury.  And  while  we  are  here 
how  utterly  foreign  to  our  true  life  are  all  the  riches 
that  we  possess !  How  true  is  the  old  saying  of 
the  Master,  that  a  man's  life  consisteth  not  in  the 
things  that  he  hath !  Hunger  of  mind,  hunger  of 
soul,  hunger  of  heart,  —  these  daily  return  to  us. 
The  mind,  the  soul,  the  heart,  is  continually  crying 
out  for  more.  Where  can  we  find  the  more  that 
we  need  and  ask,  but  in  God?  And  as  we  medi- 
tate on  these  things,  behold  our  poverty  becomes 
plain.  And,  strange  paradox,  to  this  both  worlds 
are  given:  "Blessed  are  the  meek:  for  they  shall 
inherit  the  earth;  "  ''Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit: 
for  theirs  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 


SERMON   XV. 

A   CHRISTMAS   MESSAGE. ^ 

In   him  was   life  ;   and   the  life  was  the  light   of  men.  —  St. 
John  i.  4. 

I  THINK  we  all  must  feel  that  tliere  is  no  ser- 
vice so  beautiful  as  that  which  is  appointed 
for  this  day,  and  that  music  and  poetry  have  cast 
the  spell  of  their  enchantment  about  us.  Not 
only  in  canticle  and  anthem,  but  also  in  the  match- 
less poems  which  are  selected  as  our  lessons  from 
Holy  Scripture,  the  Church  still  shows  that  the 
sweet  strains  of  the  angelic  hymn  are  lingering  in 
her  heart.  But  our  services  are  more  than  a  burst 
of  poetic  rapture ;  they  are  more  than  a  divinely 
inspired  symphony  of  music  and  song.  They  em- 
body the  most  precious  truths  which  God  has  yet 
given  to  man ;  and  we  must  not  permit  the  exu- 
berance even  of  Christian  fancy  to  obscure  them. 
We  are  called  to  meditate  now  upon  the  profound 
truths  which  lie  at  the  foundation  of  all  being,  and 
to  think  of  the  most  sublime  doctrines  that  are 
connected  with  the  soul's  life.  Let  us  not  refuse, 
then,  to  company  with  high  thoughts  this  morn- 
ing.    Let  us  turn  to  the  magnificent  passage  which 

^  Preached  in  St.  Paul's  Church,  Detroit,  on  Christmas  morn- 
ing, 1887. 


A    CHRISTMAS  MESSAGE.  257 

constitutes  the  Gospel  for  the  day,  and  think  for  a 
few  moments  upon  one  of  its  statements,  —  "  In 
him  was  hfe,  and  the  hfe  was  the  hght  of  men." 

My  brethren,  it  is  a  great  truth,  that  Jesus  is  the 
one  Divine  answer  to  all  human  questions  concern- 
ing God.  For  long  ages  the  supreme  aspiration 
of  the  best  o{  the  human  race  had  been  to  find 
some  way  in  which  the  creature  can  come  to  know 
and  love  the  Creator.  Fantastic  superstition  and 
grim  or  pathetic  idolatries  had  long  borne  witness 
in  every  land  to  this,  humanity's  profoundest  need, 
and  also  to  humanity's  failure  to  satisfy  it. 

But  in  the  fulness  of  time,  and  in  accordance 
with  the  other  purposes  of  redeeming  grace,  God 
made  Himself  known  in  human  form,  in  order  that 
men  might  know  and  love  Him.  The  incarnation, 
then,  was  the  great  revelation  of  God,  the  revealing 
of  the  Infinite  to  the  finite  comprehension,  and 
therefore  through  the  finite ;  the  manifestation  of 
Deity  both  to  human  thought  and  human  afi"ection 
in  the  only  possible  way,  that  is,  through  the  in- 
carnate Son  of  God.  And  it  is  one  of  the  aspects 
of  this  sublime  unity  that  I  wish  to  direct  your 
attention  to  this  morning.  In  Jesus  we  are  per- 
mitted to  look  upon  the  great  mystery  of  life.  He 
declared  this  of  Himself,  and  His  apostles  declared 
it  of  Him,  in  terms  which  it  is  impossible  to  eradi- 
cate of  their  deep  and  literal  signification.  Saint 
John  says,  "  In  him  was  life,  and  the  life  was  the 
light  of  men."  Saint  Peter  speaks  of  Him  as  the 
Prince  of  life,  and  the  Lord  of  life.  He  Himself 
said  at  Bethany,  "  I  am  the  Resurrection  and  the 

17 


258  THE   DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

Life ;  "  and  again,  *'  I  am  the  Way,  the  Truth,  and 
the  Life ;  "  and  the  assurance  of  continuing  exist- 
ence which  He  gave  to  his  mihtant  Church  was 
founded  on  the  same  great  claim  :  "  Because  I  Hve, 
ye  shall  live  also."  It  is  in  view  of  this  truth  that 
Christian  thinkers  often  make  use  of  expressions 
which  seem  mystical  and  unreal  to  unchristian 
apprehension ;  as,  for  instance,  when  they  speak 
of  the  Son  of  God  as  the  fount  of  all  being,  of  His 
power  as  the  source  of  all  force,  of  His  constancy 
as  the  cause  of  all  permanence,  and  of  history  it- 
self as  the  unfolding  of  His  purpose.  And  how- 
ever remote  these  great  conclusions  are  from  the 
present  hypothesis  of  inductive  philosophy,  they 
are  easily  achieved  by  sober  Christian  thought 
whenever  it  accepts  the  great  truth  that  as  God  is 
the  Author  of  all  being,  so  His  Son  is  the  Revealer 
of  all  life.  We  believe,  therefore,  not  as  Mystics, 
but  as  sober  reasoners  from  truth  to  fact,  that  all 
the  phenomena  which  men  call  natural  are  but 
the  revealings  of  His  power;  and  that  beneath  the 
ordinary  workings  of  Nature  and  the  operations  of 
secondary  causes  the  living  love  and  blessed  power 
of  the  Son  of  God  are  energizing  and  welling  forth. 
We  believe  that  no  man  can  understand  the  mys- 
tery of  the  universe,  nor  the  meaning  of  God's 
word,  unless  he  accepts  this  teaching;  and  we 
look  for  the  day  when  science,  now  so  mute  and 
sceptical,  will  come  and  lay  her  well-won  crowns 
down  at  the  feet  of  Jesus.  It  is  only  in  the  light 
of  this  luminous  verity  that  we  can  begin  to  un- 
derstand our  Lord's  miracles.     They  simply  show 


A    CHRISTMAS  MESSAGE.  259 

the  everlasting  fact,  —  the  Lord  of  Nature  ordering 
Nature,  and  the  Lord  of  Life  wielding  the  powers 
of  life.  They  were  simply  the  signs  and  tokens 
that  the  universe  is  as  truly  subservient  to  His  will 
as  it  is  subject  to  His  law.  And  if  we  could  only 
grasp  this  truth  in  its  fulness,  how  easily  we  should 
discover  the  deep  harmony  that  exists  between 
Nature  and  the  gospel !  We  should  see  that  every 
manifestation  of  God  in  His  works  is  but  a  new 
beat  of  His  heart ;  that  His  successive  creations  are 
the  putting  forth  in  forms  of  matter  of  an  abound- 
ing and  ever-springing  life.  And  we  can  intelli- 
gently address  the  poet's  apostrophe  to  him :  — 

"  God  of  the  granite  and  the  rose, 

Lord  of  the  sparrow  and  the  bee. 
The  mighty  tide  of  being  flows 

Through  countless  channels,  Lord,  from  thee. 
It  leaps  to  life  in  grass  and  flowers, 

Through  every  grade  of  being  runs  ; 
And  from  creation's  radiant  towers 

Its  glory  flames  in  stars  and  suns." 

But  our  Christmas  teaching  invites  us  to  take  a 
more  human  view  of  this  great  subject.  It  is  not 
so  much  in  the  splendor  of  His  Divine  power,  nor 
in  the  magnificence  of  His  far-reaching  purpose ; 
it  is  not  in  Jesus  the  orderer,  nor  in  Jesus  the  up- 
holder, but  it  is  in  Jesus  the  liver  of  man's  human 
life  that  He  showed  Himself  to  be  the  light  of  men. 
And  the  light  shines  for  us  upon  every  phase  of 
human  experience.  When  the  Word  was  made 
flesh  and  dwelt  among  us,  He  began  to  live  a 
human  life.     He  was  not  masquerading  in  a  sham 


26o  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

humanity;  He  was  not  making  believe  to  live  the 
life  of  a  man.  When  He  was  born,  He  was  born 
into  a  helpless  human  infancy.  When  He  grew  in 
childhood,  He  increased  in  wisdom  as  in  stature, 
and  like  all  poor  and  heroic  boys  He  grew  in  favor 
with  God  and  man.  When  He  reached  the  state 
of  manhood,  He  lived  such  an  every-day  life  as 
other  men  lived,  with  homely  joys  and  human 
sorrows,  with  toil  and  weariness  and  rest.  For 
thirty  years  there  was  not  much  recorded  of  it, 
and  the  reason  was  that  there  was  hardly  anything 
to  tell.  It  was  not  in  the  peculiarities  of  an  ex- 
ceptional career,  nor  in  the  eccentricities  of  ex- 
traordinary achievement,  that  the  Divine  life  that 
was  in  Him  exhibited  its  most  precious  teaching; 
but  it  was  in  the  ordinary  duties  and  common 
vicissitudes  of  human  experience.  And  though 
the  time  did  come  when  His  power  flashed  forth 
in  miracle  and  prophecy,  yet  it  was  not  on  these 
that  the  apostle  fastened  when  he  spoke  long  after- 
ward of  the  illuminating  splendor  of  His  influence; 
it  was  not  on  His  works,  though  His  works  did 
avouch  His  divineness,  nor  even  on  His  words, 
though  His  words  were  full  of  grace  and  truth, 
nor  was  it  on  His  intellectual  eminence,  nor  His 
genius,  nor  His  statesmanship,  though  in  all  these 
respects  He  was  easily  the  first  of  the  human  race ; 
but  it  was  upon  the  life  that  was  in  Him  that  the 
apostle  fastened  his  thought.  This  it  was  that 
made  Him  the  great  teacher  and  illuminator  of 
mankind.  "  In  him  was  life,"  he  said,  *'  and  the 
life  was  the  light  of  men." 


A    CHRISTMAS  MESSAGE.  26 1 

It  is  now  admitted  by  all  scientific  observers  and 
accurate  thinkers  that  life  is  the  mystery  of  all 
mysteries.  We  look  upon  its  work  in  many  forms, 
but  we  cannot  look  upon  itself.  We  see  what  it 
does  through  many  agencies  and  organisms,  but 
we  cannot  exactly  define  it.  We  only  know  that 
of  all  the  powers  of  Nature  it  is  the  subtlest  and 
mightiest.  When  it  is  present,  it  holds  the  swiftest 
powers  of  destruction  at  bay.  When  it  retires, 
they  do  their  wild  work  of  desolation  and  death. 
Not  only  is  it  mighty,  but  it  is  illusive.  When  we 
attempt  to  examine  it,  it  vanishes;  when  we  at- 
tempt to  bind  it  or  cage  it,  it  is  gone,  and  leaves 
death  in  our  grasp.  Not  only  is  it  mighty  and 
illusive,  but  it  is  protean.  It  assumes  a  thousand 
forms.  The  tender  shoots  spring  up  side  by  side 
in  the  springtime;  one  blushes  into  a  fragrant 
rose,  the  other  grows  into  a  deadly  plant,  and  yet 
it  is  the  same  principle  of  life.  Two  eggs  are 
warmed  into  being  in  the  same  nest ;  the  one 
grows  as  a  barnyard  fowl,  the  other  turns  out  to 
be  an  eagle,  and  soars  away  to  find  an  eyrie  and 
a  home  on  the  mountain-top.  Two  men  grow  up 
side  by  side ;  the  abounding  life  of  one  climbs  the 
heroic  path  of  duty  with  aspiring  feet,  the  other  is 
betrayed  into  ruin  by  the  superabundance  of  his 
life.  Therefore,  I  repeat,  it  is  mysterious,  it  is 
mighty,  it  is  illusive,  it  is  protean ;  it  seems  to  be 
outside  of  all  the  organisms  in  which  it  does  its 
work,  and  yet  to  be  so  modified  by  those  organ- 
isms as  to  take  on  indefinite  variety.  By  what 
name  shall  we  call  this  subtle,  this  mysterious,  this 


262  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

mighty,  this  protean  power?  It  is  often  guarded 
by  a  subtle  inteUigence,  and  yet  it  is  not  intellect 
merely.  It  is  endowed  with  unfailing  intuitions, 
and  yet  it  is  not  instinct.  It  is  force,  and  yet  it  is 
more,  because  there  is  no  correlation  between  it 
and  other  forms  of  force.  What  is  it?  We  must 
still  call  it  by  the  one  word  that  has  no  synonym, 
by  the  most  mysterious  name  in  all  the  vocabu- 
laries of  human  speech  save  one:  we  must  still 
call  it  life.  Now,  it  was  the  supreme  distinction 
of  Jesus,  that  in  Him  we  are  able  to  see  life  in 
its  original  and  essential  character.  This  was  the 
supreme  distinction  that  He  claimed  for  Himself: 
'*  As  the  Father  hath  life  in  himself,  so  hath  he 
given  to  the  Son  to  have  life  in  himself."  So  here 
Saint  John  says  of  Him,  "  In  him  was  life,  and  the 
life  was  the  light  of  men."  Here  now  we  have 
this  mighty,  this  mysterious  power  doing  its  own 
proper  work.  We  can  study  it  here ;  it  no  longer 
eludes  us.  We  can  look  at  it  in  Jesus  as  He  lived 
the  life,  the  true  life  of  man.  Therefore  the  apostle 
says  of  it,  This  life  is  the  light  of  men. 

What,  now,  were  the  essential  peculiarities  of  life 
as  it  was  exhibited  by  Jesus,  as  it  shone  forth  in 
Jesus?  I  answer  in  few  words.  In  Him  was  an 
obedient,  a  loving,  a  self-sacrificing  life.  And  those 
qualities  —  obedience,  love,  self-sacrifice  —  were 
but  the  phases  or  aspects  of  the  same  character. 
In  Him  life  was  the  outgoing  of  a  Divine  na- 
ture. In  virtue  of  this,  it  was  never  of  self  that 
He  thought.  In  virtue  of  this,  self-seeking,  self- 
sufficiency,    pride,    self-will,    all    kinds    of  selfish- 


A    CHRISTMAS  MESSAGE.  263 

ness  were  impossible  to  Him.  By  this  power  He 
vanquished  the  tempter  and  rebuked  devils,  and 
healed  sickness  and  raised  the  dead.  Nay,  by 
this  power  He  vanquished  death  itself,  and  burst 
the  bonds  of  the  grave,  and  returned  again  to 
triumphant  and  eternal  Hfe.  Here,  now,  is  a  study 
worthy  of  men  and  of  angels.  On  this  blessed 
Christmas  morning  we  will  not  refuse  to  ponder 
it.  Life  in  Jesus,  —  see  how  it  behaved  itself;  see 
how  it  won  its  victories,  not  by  dazzling  achieve- 
ment, nor  by  exuberant  overflow  in  prodigy  and 
miracle,  but  by  a  law  which  showed  itself  in 
obedience,  in  self-giving,  in  self-sacrifice.  Among 
men  this  supreme  characteristic  of  life  had  been 
utterly  forgotten.  It  was  supposed  that  life  was 
a  grasping  and  self-seeking  thing;  that  it  was 
rich  and  strong  and  worthy  in  proportion  to  what 
it  gained  and  exacted  and  appropriated.  It  was 
supposed  that  giving  and  self-giving  were  the 
wasting  and  abdication  of  its  power;  that  sacrifice 
and  self-sacrifice  were  utter  shame  and  defeat.  But 
behold,  when  the  Divine  life  flowed  into  the  world 
at  the  birth  of  Jesus,  and  began  to  do  man's  part 
and  to  be  man's  life,  there  was  a  complete  reversal 
of  this  human  judgment.  Then  it  was  seen  that 
life  is  strong  and  rich  and  worthy  in  proportion 
to  what  it  gives,  what  it  parts  with,  what  it  be- 
stows ;  that  self-forgetting  is  its  health,  that  self- 
giving  is  its  joy,  that  self-sacrifice  is  its  triumph 
and  its  glory.  Such  was  the  life  that  was  in  Jesus, 
and  this  life  is  the  light  of  men. 

My  brethren,  let  us  not  refuse  to  ponder  this 


264  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

great  lesson  as  we  commemorate  the  human  birth 
of  the  Son  of  God.  Perhaps  there  has  never  been 
a  time  when  such  a  lesson  was  more  needed  than 
it  is  to-day.  In  this  age  of  a  material  civilization 
so  splendid  as  to  be  almost  barbaric,  and  when 
human  success  is  rewarded  by  material  achieve- 
ment, how  subtle  the  danger  that  we  and  our  chil- 
dren may  make  the  fatal  mistake  of  supposing 
that  life's  characteristic  excellence  and  dignity 
consist  in  getting  and  appropriating  and  heaping 
up,  instead  of  in  giving,  in  bestowing,  in  blessing; 
that  we  should  forget  the  old  divine  truth,  that 
he  is  richest  who  gives  most,  and  he  is  most  blest 
who  loves  most,  and  that  he  is  strongest  who 
most  completely  sacrifices  himself.  Let  us  seek, 
then,  on  this  Christmas  morning,  to  cast  away  our 
false  conception,  and  return  to  true  views  of  life. 
The  very  story  of  Bethlehem  and  the  manger 
contains  a  correction  of  all  our  false  thinking. 
See  how  completely  the  very  beginning  of  Jesus' 
earthly  life  seems,  as  we  meditate  upon  it,  to  teach 
us  true  and  large  and  noble  thoughts.  On  this 
day  the  Divine  life  flowed  into  the  world,  and  be- 
gan to  do  man's  part  in  the  human  life  of  Jesus. 
Yet  it  was  an  outcast  birth,  in  order  to  teach 
us  that  life  is  more  than  the  clothes  it  wears 
and  the  house  which  it  inhabits.  It  was  a  lonely 
birth,  in  order  to  teach  us  that  life  is  more  than 
any  associates  of  kinship  or  companionship  that 
can  cluster  around  it.  It  was  the  birth  of  utter 
poverty,  in  order  to  teach  us  that  man's  life  con- 
sisteth  not  in  the  things  that  he  hath.     Yes,  life  is 


A    CHRISTMAS  MESSAGE.  26$ 

more  than  houses  and  dignities  and  riches;  its 
essential  dignity  and  grandeur  cannot  be  impaired 
or  enhanced  by  the  absence  or  by  the  presence 
of  these  or  any  of  these ;  but  whatsoever  dignity 
and  grandeur  it  shall  have  is  measured  only  by 
the  love  of  which  it  is  the  fulfilment.  Do  you 
tell  me  that  this  is  a  teaching  too  transcendental 
for  our  day  and  time?  Yet  this  is  the  teaching, 
not  of  the  birth  only,  but  of  the  whole  life  of 
Jesus.  Strange  contrast  between  the  base  and 
sordid  ideas  of  the  world,  and  the  grandest  and 
most  heroic  life  in  all  its  annals !  Strange  that 
it  must  be  said  of  the  Divine  man,  of  the  ideal 
man,  of  the  model  of  all  manly  excellence  and 
dignity  and  worth,  that  He  was  not  a  maker  of 
money,  that  He  was  not  a  seeker  of  dignity  or 
place,  that  He  was  utterly  homeless,  and  without 
a  place  of  His  own  to  lay  His  head.  And  yet  how 
strong,  how  affluent,  how  glorious  was  His  life  !  It 
was  the  Divine  life  doing  man's  part  in  the  world, 
and  therefore  it  was  the  ideal  life.  "  In  him  was 
life,  and  the  life  was  the  light  of  men." 

Yes,  it  is  a  mighty  truth,  a  precious  truth,  a 
truth  that  is  needed  to  save  this  age  from  sordid 
baseness  and  shame  and  degradation.  Poets  have 
tried  to  illustrate  and  embellish  it.  Sages  and 
philosophers  have  lavished  their  thought  upon  it 
to  give  it  acceptance  among  men ;  but  how  shall 
we  learn  it  so  well  as  in  the  old  gospel  story,  — 
by  simply  looking  to  Jesus.  In  Him  was  life  :  in 
Jesus  the  outcast  babe;  in  Jesus  the  obedient  boy; 
in  Jesus  the  lovely  youth ;   in  Jesus  the  wayfaring 


266  THE  DIGNITY  OF  MAN. 

man;  in  Jesus  the  self-forgetting  teacher;  in  Jesus 
the  pitiful  Saviour ;  in  Jesus  the  dying  Redeemer ; 
in  Jesus  the  self-sacrificing  and  therefore  trium- 
phant God.  Men  thought  it  was  poverty,  but  the 
angels  knew  that  it  was  riches ;  men  scorned  it 
as  weakness  and  shame  and  defeat,  but  the  angels 
came  thronging  through  the  cloven  skies  to  hymn 
His  greatness  when  He  was  born,  and  they  waited 
on  Him  and  ministered  to  Him  all  through  His  glo- 
rious career,  and  they  watched  with  bated  breath 
the  grandeur  of  His  sacrifice,  and  they  told  with 
shining  faces  of  the  consequent  glory  of  His  resur- 
rection and  ascension  into  heaven.  They  have 
always  known,  and  would  that  we  might  always 
know,  that  ''  in  him  was  life,  and  the  life  was  the 
light  of  men." 


€{)e  25altitoin  %tttutt^. 


INSTITUTES    OF    CHRISTIAN    HISTORY. 

An  Introduction  to  Historic  Reading  and  Study.  By  the 
Rt.  Rev.  A.  Cleveland  Coxe,  D.D.,  Bishop  of  Western  New- 
York.     Large  i2mo,  328  pages,  $1.50. 

The  "  Institutes"  are  outlines,  bold  sketches  emphasizing  leading  facts  and 
dominating  principles,  serving  as  guide-posts  for  points  of  departure  in  every  age. 
There  is  pith  and  point  on  every  page,  and  the  charm  of  the  author's  incisive, 
animated  style  runs  through  all.  —  The  Living  Church,  Chicago. 

The  work  undertaken  by  Bishop  Coxe  ...  is  to  help  the  student  of  church 
history  to  a  just  point  of  view,  to  impress  him  with  the  importance  of  studying 
history  as  one  should  study  philosophy  or  political  economy,  in  a  scientific  spirit, 
to  accompany  the  reader  through  the  principal  pitfalls  which  lie  in  his  way;  to 
guard  him  against  accepting  certain  themes  as  true,  simply  because  they  have  been 
reiterated  through  many  ages,  and  generally  speaking,  to  bring  doctrines,  themes, 
and  traditions  to  the  test  of  fact  and  principle.  —  The  Dominion  Churchman, 
Toronto. 

These  lectures  are  by  no  means  a  mere  dry  compendium.  They  are  through- 
out vitalized  by  philosophic  thought  expressed  in  picturesque  language.  The 
author  not  only  seeks  to  give  the  outline  of  those  forces,  and  their  historic  devel- 
opment, which  have  gone  to  make  up  Christian  history,  but  he  also  gives  their 
causal  connection.  The  young  student,  not  confused  with  a  mass  of  incidental 
detail,  but  aroused  and  interested  by  certain  salient  personalities  and  certain  great 
ideas,  is  carried  rapidly  but  yet  intelligently  along  the  historic  course  of  Chris- 
tianity since  its  beginning.  .  .  .  After  finishing  the  perusal  of  these  three  hundred 
and  twenty-eight  neatly  printed  pages  one  is  convinced  that  both  erudition  and 
experience  are  at  the  basis  of  their  remarkable  success  in  making  the  development 
of  Christianity,  from  the  first  age  until  this,  plain  and  interesting  to  even  the  casual 
reader.  —  The  Churchtnajt,  New  York. 

The  spirit  of  the  author  is  broad  and  tolerant.  .  .  .  Bishop  Coxe  entertains 
his  own  opinions  on  many  subjects,  and  does  not  hesitate  to  advance  them ;  they 
add  point  and  interest  to  his  lectures  without  marring  at  all  their  historical  sym- 
metry or  interrupting  the  course  of  the  historical  movement.  For  general  readers 
the  course  possesses  in  a  high  degree  the  qualities  required  in  an  introduction, 
and  may  be  commended  without  reserve  as  an  excellent  book  of  Christian  history 
with  which  to  start  young  readers,  and  for  use  in  Sunday  reading.  —  The  hide- 
pendent.  New  York. 


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WITNESSES    TO   CHRIST. 

A  Contribution  to  Christian  Apologetics,  By  William 
Clark,  M.A.,  Professor  of  Philosophy  in  Trinity  College, 
Toronto.     Large  i2nio,  300  pages,  $1.50. 

The  reader  of  this  volume  will  soon  find  that  its  sub-title  is  much  too  modest, 
and  that  it  is  one  of  the  ablest  issues  of  the  day  upon  Christian  apologetics.  In 
the  important  matter  of  dealing  with  phases  of  contemporaneous  thought  in  their 
relations  to  gospel  truth,  and  in  endeavors  to  extract  testimonies  to  that  truth 
from  foes  as  well  as  from  friends,  the  author  has  been  eminently  successful.  .  .  . 
The  two  lectures  upon  the  resurrection  of  our  Lord  — that  miracle  of  miracles 
which  alone  establishes  the  truth  of  Christianity  —  have  never,  probably,  been 
excelled  for  cogency  of  logic;  and  the  entire  volume  should  be  carefully  and 
exhaustively  read  by  every  teacher  and  student  of  Gospel  truth,  and  by  every 
intelligent  person,  in  fact,  who  wishes  to  be  able  to  successfully  combat  the  infi- 
delity of  the  day.  —  TAe  Interior,  Chicago. 

The  main  topics  usually  found  in  a  book  of  apologetics  have  come  under  re- 
view, and  are  treated  with  marked  learning  and  thoughtfulness.  It  deals  with 
non-Christian  theories  in  their  latest  phases,  and  though  clearly  and  strongly 
showing  their  defects,  is  yet  ready  to  recognize  any  good  intention  that  may  seem 
to  be  in  them,  and  to  treat  a  present  opponent  of  Christianity  as  possibly  a  future 
friend  and  disciple.  For  the  intelligent  laity,  for  whom  it  is  specially  designed,  it 
would  be  difficult  to  name  a  better  book  of  its  class;  and  the  parochial  clergy 
putting  it  on  circulation  in  their  parishes  will  find  it  of  much  value  at  the  present 
time.  —  The  Churchman,  New  York. 

This  volume  possesses  the  rare  virtue  of  being  positive  in  character.  Its 
avoidance  of  mere  argument  is  remarkable.  One  rises  from  its  perusal  feeling 
that  the  author  has  not  left  the  Agnostic  to  slip  between  the  horns  of  a  logical 
dilemma,  but  face  to  face  with  four  blank  walls,  too  high  to  be  scaled,  too  strong 
to  be  pierced,  built  out  of  stones  quarried  from  history,  and  ordered  at  the  dic- 
tation of  reason  and  sense.  While  many  apologetic  works  leave  the  reader  with  the 
impression  that  the  conclusions  of  an  intricate  chain  of  reasoning  seem  probable, 
here  the  facts  of  Christianity  are  set  forth,  and  the  attacks  against  it  passed  in 
review;  history,  not  the  writer,  being  in  the  witness-box;  facts,  not  the  writer's 
opinions,  stating  the  issue.  The  trial  is  conducted  on  the  stubborn  ground  of  the 
actual,  and  not  in  the  cloud-land  of  dialectics.  Consequently,  the  attempts  to 
show  that  Christianity  is  built  upon  myth,  or  owes  its  existence  to  the  fantasies  of 
disordered  brains,  fall  to  the  ground  before  the  array  of  facts  produced  on  the 
other  side. —  Trinity  Review,  Toronto. 


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CHICAGO. 


Home-Life  of  Great  Authors. 

By  HATTIE  TYNG  GRISWOLD. 

Large  i2mo,  385  pages,  $1.50. 


The  lover  of  his  kind,  tlie  reverent  student  of  life,  the  grateful  learners  in  the 
school  of  literature,  can  form  from  Hattie  Tyng  Griswold's  book  an  appreciative, 
intelligent  idea  of  the  home  and  heart  lives  of  many  of  the  most  distinguished 
modern  writers.  ...  To  the  opening  minds  of  young  people,  whose  reading  is 
just  becoming  absorbing,  this  volume  will  be  of  especial  value,  and  to  all  who 
appreciate  the  "  companions  of  their  solitude  "  this  book  is  certain  to  be  welcome. 
In  it  there  is  nothing  small  or  mean  to  vex  and  disappoint  a  glowing  heart.  It  is 
broad,  fine,  compact,— a  piece  of  real,  true,  and  needful  work. —  The  Chicago 
Tribune. 

Mrs.  Griswold  has  shown  a  rare  discrimination  in  the  treatment  of  her  sub- 
jects. And  in  nothing  has  this  faculty  been  better  displayed  than  in  her  selections 
of  authors.  This  alone  is  a  difficult  task  —  one  in  which  any  writer  would  be 
sure  to  offend,  at  least  by  omission.  But  the  table  of  contents  of  this  book  is  a 
gratifying  success  ;  and  the  77tenu  here  provided  will  abundantly  satisfy  the  most 
of  readers.  The  excellent  typography  and  the  binding  make  up  a  most  charming 
volume  and  a  valuable  contribution  to  biographical  literature.  —  The  Buffalo 
Express. 

The  author's  womanly  instincts  have  enabled  her  to  see,  in  the  private  lives 
of  the  authors  whom  she  describes,  in  their  loves,  their  habits,  hopes,  successes, 
and  disappointments,  all  their  faults  as  well  as  virtues,  and  she  presents  the 
picture  in  each  sketch  as  it  appears  to  her  unprejudiced  eyes.  She  has  made  a 
book  which  possesses  an  interest  that,  at  times,  becomes  thrilling.  —  Public 
Opinion,  Washington. 

No  such  excellent  collection  of  brief  biographies  of  literary  favorites  has  ever 
before  appeared  in  this  country.  Mrs.  Griswold's  taste  and  discretion  are  as 
much  to  be  admired  as  her  industry  in  the  composition  of  these  delightful 
sketches.  —  Evening  Bulletin,  Philadelphia. 

All  matter  of  legitimate  interest  and  essential  to  a  true  appreciation  of  the 
character  of  these  noted  authors  is  to  be  found  in  this  volume,  which  is  in  many 
respects  unique  as  well  as  otherwise  attractive.  —  The  Chronicle-  Telegraphy 
Pittsburg. 


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UPTON'S   HANDBOOKS  ON  MUSIC. 


THE  STANDARD  OPERAS:  Their  Plots,  Their  Music, 
AND  Their  Composers.  A  Handbook.  By  George  P.  Upton. 
i2mo,  371  pages,  yellow  edges,  ^1.50. 

The  summaries  of  the  plots  are  so  clear,  logical,  and  well  written  that  one 
can  read  them  with  real  pleasure,  which  cannot  be  said  of  the  ordinary  operatic 
synopses.  But  the  most  important  circumstance  is  that  Mr.  Upton's  book  is 
fully  abreast  of  the  times.  —  T/ie  Nation,  New  York. 

THE  STANDARD  ORATORIOS:  Their  Stories,  Their 
Music,  and  Their  Composers.  A  Handbook.  By  George  P. 
Upton.     i2mo,  335  pages,  yellow  edges,  ^1.50. 

The  book  is  a  masterpiece  of  skilful  handling,  charming  the  reader  with  its 
pure  Englisli  style,  and  keeping  his  attention  always  awake,  in  an  arrangement  of 
matter  which  makes  each  succeeding  page  and  chapter  fresh  in  interest  and  always 
full  of  instruction,  while  always  entertaining.  —  The  Standard,  Chicago. 

THE  STANDARD  CANTATAS:  Their  Stories,  Their 
]\Iusic,  AND  Their  Composers.  A  Handbook.  By  George  P. 
Upton.     i2mo,    367  pages,  yellow  edges,  $1.50. 

The  author  of  the  "  Standard  Cantatas"  appreciates  the  situation.  He  en- 
ters heartily  into  his  work  of  definition,  discrimination,  biography,  history,  inci- 
dent, and  explanation.  .  .  .  The  general  public  will  get  good  help  from  the 
"  Standard  Cantatas  "  It  covers  ground  that  has  never  been  carefully  worked, 
and  Mr.  Upton  does  his  task  with  fidelity,  spirit,  and  taste.  —  Ilhistrated  ChriS' 
tian  Weekly,  New  York. 

THE  STANDARD  SYMPHONIES:  Their  History,  Their 
Music,  and  Their  Composers.  A  Handbook.  By  George 
P.  Upton,     lamo,  321  pages,  yellow  edges,  gi.50. 

Before  going  to  hear  an  orchestral  programme,  one  can  become  as  familiar  with 
the  symphonies  on  it  by  the  aid  of  this  work,  as  with  the  dramas  of  Shakespeare 
by  reading  the  text  before  seeing  the  performances.  Thus  equipped  with  a  knowl- 
edge of  structural  ideas,  and  by  familiarity  with  the  development  of  the  main 
thoughts  of  the  composer,  the  enjoyment  of  orchestral  music  can  be  incalculably 
broadened  and  deepened.  —  The  Chicago  Tribune. 

THE  STANDARD  MUSICAL  SERIES.  Comprising  The 
Standard  Operas,  The  Standard  Oratorios,  The  Stan, 
dard  Cantatas,  and  The  Standard  Symphonies.  By 
George  P.  Upton.  i2mo,  the  four  volumes  in  box,  cloth,  ^6.00; 
extra  gilt,  gilt  edges,  $8.00;  half  calf,  gilt  top,  3i3-oo;  half  morocco, 
gilt  edges,  3i5-oo  ;  full  morocco,  flexible,  very  elegant,  $24.00. 

Like  the  valuable  art  handbooks  of  Mrs.  Jameson,  these  volumes  contain  a 
world  of  interesting  information,  indispensable  to  critics  and  art  amateurs.  — 
Public  Opinion,  Washington. 


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The  Great  French  Writers. 


A    SERIES    OF    STUDIES    OF  THE    LIVES,    WORKS,   AND 

Influence  of  the  Great  Writers  of  the  Past,  by  Great 
Writers  of  the  Present. 

One  of  the  most  notable  literary  enterprises  of  recent  years.  —  The  Nation. 

MADAME  DE  SEVIGNE.    By  Gaston  Boissier,  of  the  French 
Academy.     Translated  by  Prof.  Melville   B.  Anderson.     i2mo, 
205  pages,  $1.00. 
Tliere  has  been  no  such  charming  account  of  this  charming  and  celebrated 

woman.  .  .  .  The  volume  is  altogether  one  that  shows  keen  study  and  a  delicate 

appreciation  that  distinguishes  French  hterary  work  above  that  of  England.  — 

Evening  Bulletin,  Philadelphia. 

GEORGE     SAND.      By    E.   Caro,    of    the    French    Academy. 

Translated  by  Prof.  M.  B.  Anderson.     i2mo,  235  pages,  ^t.oo. 

It  is  an  extremely  brilliant,  not  to  say  dazzling,  performance,  full  of  French 
acumen,  thoroughly  intelligible,  and  the  original  is  a  model  of  pure  French.  It 
is  not  a  biography,  but  an  essay,  and  such  an  essay  as  only  the  French  can  write, 
for  they  are  better  writers  than  other  people.  —  The  Beacon,  Boston. 

MONTESQUIEU.     By  A.  Sorel.     Translated  by  Prof.  M.  B. 

Anderson  and  Edward  P.  Anderson.    i2mo,  218  pages,  ^i.oo. 

No  'prentice  hands  are  admitted  to  this  undertaking.  The  story  of  Montes- 
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English  version  contributes  largely  to  the  worth  of  the  book.  .  .  .  The  brilliant 
current  of  this  book  makes  it  difficult  to  call  a  halt  before  turning  the  final  page. 
—  Public  Ledger,  Pliiladelphia. 

VICTOR  COUSIN.    By  Jules  Simon.    Translated  by  Prof.  M.  B. 

Anderson  and  Edward  P.  Anderson.     i2mo,  220  pages,  gi.oo. 

This  monograph  on  Victor  Cousin,  his  life,  and  philosophical  opinions,  is 
exceptionally  attractive,  not  only  because  of  its  keen  and  vivacious  observations, 
but  also  because  it  is  written  by  Jules  Simon.  —  The  Congregationalist,  Boston. 

TURCOT.  By  L60N  Say,  of  the  French  Academy.  Trans- 
lated by  Prof.  M.  B.  Anderson.  lamo,  231  pages,  $1.00. 
To  one  who  wishes,  at  a  small  expenditure  of  time,  to  arrive  at  a  correct 
estimate  of  Turgot's  rank  as  an  economist,  or  to  study  in  the  historical  circum- 
stances of  their  origin  the  birth  of  principles  which  a  century  has  tested  and  found 
firm,  we  can  heartily  commend  this  clear  and  logical  little  monograph.  —  Bosto7i 
Daily  Advertiser. 

Other  Volumes  of  the  Series  in  Preparation  : 

Voltaire.     By  F.  Brunetiere.  Racine.     By  A.  France. 

Thiers.     By  Paul  de  Remusat.  Balzac.     By  P.  Bourget. 

Rousseau.     By  M.  Cherbuliez.  Guizot.     By  G.  Monod. 

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THE  BOOK-LOVER: 

A   GUIDE  TO    THE   BEST  READING.     By  James  Baldwin, 
Ph.D.     Seventh   edition,   revised.     i6mo,    222  pages,  gilt  top, 

$1-25.  ^ 

A  book  of  real  excellence It  is  such  a  volume  as  we  should  more 

than  once  have  been  glad  to  place  in  the  hands  of  persons  making  inquiries  upon 
points  like  those  so  judiciously  handled  here,  and  which  only  one  thoroughly 
familiar  with  books  and  with  literature  could  hope  to  answer  in  the  best  way. — 
The  Standard,  Chicago. 

If  a  man  needs  that  the  love  of  books  be  cultivated  within  him,  such  a  gem 
of  a  book  as  Dr.  Baldwin's  ought  to  do  the  work.  Perfect  and  inviting  in  all  that 
a  book  ouglit  outwardly  to  be,  its  contents  are  such  as  to  instruct  the  mind  at  the 
same  time  that  they  arouse  the  taste  ;  and  the  reader  who  goes  carefully  through 
its  two  hundred  and  twenty-two  pages  ought  not  only  to  love  books  in  general 
better  than  he  ever  did  before,  but  to  love  them  more  wisely,  more  intelligently, 
more  discriminatingly,  and  with  more  profit  to  his  own  soul.  .  .  .  One  might 
open  this  book  over  his  head  and  look  up  into  it  as  into  the  starry  heavens  of 
literature.  —  The  Literary  World,  Boston. 

Mr.  Baldwin,  who  is  well  known  as  the  author  of  sundry  works  on  literature 
and  criticism,  has  written  in  this  monograph  a  delightful  eulogium  of  books  and 
their  manifold  influence,  and  has  gained  therein  two  classes  of  readers,  —  the 
scholarly  class,  to  which  he  belongs,  and  the  receptive  class,  which  he  has  bene- 
fited. "The  Book-Lover"  is  compact  with  suggestions  and  wisdom.— 3"^^ 
Mail  and  Express,  New  York. 

"  Infinite  riches  in  little  room  "  might  well  describe  the  character  of  this 
elegantly  printed  volume.  It  opens  with  a  prelude  containing  extracts  from  vari- 
ous authors  in  praise  of  books,  and  follows  with  chapters  on  "  The  Choice  of 
Books,"  "  How  to  Read,"  "What  Books  Shall  Young  Folks  Read?"  "The 
Value  and  Use  of  Libraries,"  "  The  Practical  Study  of  English  Literature,"  etc- 
.  .  The  volume  is  designed  not  only  to  soimd  the  praise  of  books  and  to  illus- 
trate the  value  of  literature,  but  to  furnish  a  practical  guide  for  the  purchase  of 
books.  It  also  gives  several  valuable  courses  of  reading  and  outlines  of  practical 
study.  In  no  recent  volume  have  we  noticed  so  trustworthy  a  selection  of  books 
for  the  practical  use  of  students  in  the  several  departments  specified.  It  is,  there- 
fore, a  book  not  only  for  the  book-lover,  but  a  book  to  make  book-lovers,  —  to 
foster  and  educate  a  correct  literary  taste.  It  is  of  convenient  size,  and  admirable 
in  plan  and  execution.  We  can  cordially  recommend  "The  Book- Lover,"  not 
only  to  those  who  love  books  for  books'  own  sake,  but  as  a  volume  well  designed 
to  inspire  the  regard  for  books,  to  plant  the  passion  that  grows  by  what  it  feeds 
upon,  and  that  finds  in  books  "  the  society,  the  spiritual  presence,  of  the  best  and 
greatest  of  our  race."  —  TJie  Universalist,  Chicago. 


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